Pietro Maximoff: Hydra's Experiment
by Eniko151
Summary: An alternative starting point for Pietro Maximoff. What if the experiment goes wrong? What happens to those who fail? Those who can't control their newly found powers? This is the story of Pietro meeting the avengers before Ultron is introduced as a threat. (I've changed a lot of things. I am not getting them wrong. It's deliberate. Just to let people know)
1. Chapter 1

"You're a failed experiment Pietro Maximoff."

Pietro struggled against the two men holding him but couldn't break free of their strong grips. No, no it couldn't be true. He couldn't have failed. He knew he hadn't quite perfected his powers yet but surely it was only a matter of time.

"Where is Wanda?" He growled the words. "What have you done with her?"

Wolfgang Von Strucker grinned coldly and gestured to a door. A second later, Wanda was pushed out.

"Wanda!"

"Pietro!"

She tried to run towards him but an agent quickly detained her. Pietro kicked out behind him, catching the shin of a man holding him. A fist met his jaw and he spat blood onto the floor, eventually stopping his struggles as the men continued to hit him.

Wanda was screaming the entire time. "Pietro, don't fight them! They promised not to hurt you if you left without arguing!"

"Don't keep their promises…" Pietro gasped in the air, exhausted from his beatings. "Failed experiments… Get killed…"

"Both of you! Shut up!" Strucker practically yelled, losing his temper. "You two-" He pointed a finger to the men holding Pietro; they flinched under his sharp gaze. "-take him away."

One of the men gagged Pietro, tying a cloth around his head to cover his mouth, and began to force him away. He struggled against them, trying to reach his sister.

"Wanda!" He shouted, his voice muffled by the cloth.

"Pietro! Be strong Brother. I'll find you again one day! I promise."

* * *

Pietro looked down.

Below him, the cliff fell away into a good twenty metre drop, possibly more. A very wide, very slow, river cut through the land. The far bank was level with the water. Then he looked up. _The sky._ It had been so long since he had last seen it. The stars almost took his breath away and he momentarily forgot about what was going to happen. They looked like tiny diamonds. Well, what he assumed diamonds looked like. They were just so beautiful.

A man came up beside him, holding a rock and his mind was immediately jolted back to reality. A rope was tied around the grey boulder, the other end binding Pietro's ankles.

"I still don't get why we can't just cut his throat." The man grumbled, shifting his weight to make holding the rock easier. "It'd be much less effort."

The other man rolled his eyes. Obviously this was a subject they had discussed before. "Because Strucker wants us to do it this way. Because this is how we've always done it. And because I'll sit _your_ throat if you keep complaining."

The first man quickly shut up and the second checked the ropes tied around Pietro's wrists, bonding his hands.

"It's supposed to be rather pleasant if you just relax." He mocked cruelly.

Pietro glared at him, gritting his teeth on the cloth.

"See you in hell Maximoff." The man murmured and threw the rock off the side of the cliff.

Pietro was shoved from behind and pushed off, plummeting towards the water. Just as he thought he would fall forever, he hit the river and the rock dragged him down into the choking depths. His eyes flew open and he tried, in vain, to struggle back up to the surface. He dropped to the bottom of the river, the rock falling into the mud with a quiet, muffled thump.

"Wanda!" He attempted to scream underwater, air bubbles escaping his lips as he called for his sister.

His lungs were burning, shrieking for air but he couldn't fill them. Even though he knew he wouldn't get any, his body still tried to take a breath. An almost silent whooshing noise met Pietro's ears and a shape fell into the river as cold water blocked his throat. _Please don't say they pushed Wanda in too!_ The person reached Pietro quickly, taking a knife from their belt and beginning to cut the rope bonding Pietro's ankles. Pietro fell limp, his vision clouding with darkness as his strength left.

"Wanda…" His last breath was lost as an inaudible sigh, the remaining bubbles rising from his mouth up to the surface.

* * *

Someone was pumping Pietro's chest.

He felt a hand lay on his jaw and the side of his head. Someone's mouth covered his and air was forced into his body. Pietro struggled up onto his hands and knees and the person crawled back a few paces as he coughed up mouthfuls of water. He choked violently for what seemed like hours, expelling the river from his body and gasping for air in between his coughs.

"Are you okay?"

He looked to his left, breathing heavily. A man- he guessed early thirties- was knelt beside him. His short, brown hair was streaming with water; as was the rest of him. His brown eyes watched Pietro, glistening with concern. Pietro immediately scrambled away from him, his eyes flashing with alarm.

"Hey, whoa!" The man put both hands up in a submissive position. "I'm not going to hurt you kid. If I had wanted you dead I would have left you in the river. Calm down."

"You… Saved me?" Pietro asked warily; still not ready to trust anyone fully.

"Why else would I be soaked to the skin?"

He took a cloth from his pocket and moved towards Pietro. He quickly scrambled away again.

"Kid, you're injured. Let me help."

Pietro remained tense but didn't try to run away as the man came to sit beside him. He pressed the cloth to his arm, gently wiping the blood from a deep cut in Pietro's skin.

"Got a name Kid?"

"Pietro… Pietro Maximoff… And I'm not a Kid, I'm nineteen. Who are you?"

"Clinton Barton... You can call me Clint. And, to me, anyone under twenty-five is classed as a kid… I'm guessing you're not from here."

Pietro shook his head uncertainly. "I don't know where I am…" He paused, his gaze fixing on a point in the distance. "They've got my sister." He suddenly remembered, leaping to his feet.

His power suddenly rose- like it always did when he panicked- and he shot forward. He sprinted a couple of hundred metres in just one second and tripped, skidding on his side across the ground. He slowly rolled onto his front, pushing himself up slightly with his hands. His arms gave way and he fell down onto his back, eyes flickering.

"Maximoff… Pietro?!"

Barton came and knelt beside him, looking down at him worriedly. Pietro didn't want to fall asleep. He still didn't trust this guy. He needed to find Wanda. Unconsciousness crept up on his mind.

"Wanda." He whispered quietly and Clint leant down to hear his words. "Have to… Have to find Wanda… Hydra…" His eyelids fluttered shut, breathing out his sister's name one more time before he slipped into darkness.

"Wanda…"


	2. Chapter 2

Pietro blinked open his eyes.

A doctor was leaning over him, checking his heartbeat with a stethoscope. He immediately kicked out, scrambling up into a sitting position.

"Calm down, calm down." The doctor urged.

A jolt of panic was rushing through Pietro. _Where am I?_ He shot off the bed, a blue blur, reaching a corner of the room in less than a second. Panting heavily, his gaze quickly scanned the room. It seemed to be some sort of medical facility; two doctors were slowly edging towards him.

"Mr Maximoff, you need to stay calm." One of them was telling him, both hands held out, towards Pietro. "Do you know where you are?"

 _No but I want to get out of here as quick as possible._ Pietro didn't speak, just shaking his head. He was overwhelmed by all the new sounds and people and… everything. He didn't like it. No, he didn't just dislike it. He hated it. Having people he didn't know around him was frightening. Putting on a burst of speed, he raced out of the room, ignoring the doctors yelling for him to stop.

He sprinted down corridors, not caring where he was going, not caring who he crashed into. After a few minutes of running, he saw something that made him freeze and skidded to a halt.

 **Stark.**

He saw the name through a window in a wall. Hands shaking, he opened the door and stepped into the room.

It looked like a gym. Treadmills and weights and judo mats. On every piece of equipment that name was printed. Stark…

Pietro forced his legs to move, walking over to one of the weight lifting machines. He reached out a hand, brushing his fingers over the black name. His eyes narrowed, memories of grief taking over.

"Maximoff?"

He looked over his shoulder. Barton was standing in the doorway, looking at him anxiously.

"Stark…" Pietro whispered. "I-I was ten years old. Me and my Parents… And Wanda… We were having dinner. Just sat at the table, in our house, in Sokovia. And the bomb hit. My parents vanished through a hole in the floor. I grabbed Wanda… And I dragged her under the bed. The second bomb hit. But it didn't go off. It just… It just lay there… Three inches from my face… And it had a word on it… It had Stark on it." He began to tremble and shut his eyes, dropping to his knees.

He clutched his hands to his head, drawing in deep shivering breaths. Suddenly not caring that he hardly knew the guy, Clint ran over, crouching in front of him. He lightly gripped the younger man's wrists, slowly forcing his hands down. Laying a hand on the side of his face, Clint gently turned Pietro's head up.

"Where am I?" He murmured quietly.

"You're in New York." Clint replied calmly. "You're in the Avengers tower. Do you know-?"

"Avengers." Pietro interrupted him, his voice was distant. "Hydra… Told me about… About them. Hydra doesn't like them."

"Do you?" Clint asked.

"Hydra told me they were bad. Hydra tried to murder me." Pietro muttered. "I… I'm a failed experiment. I can't control it… I don't know how."

"What do you mean? What experiment? Control what?"

"We- Me and my sister, Wanda- We were orphans… We had a hard time looking after ourselves… Sokovia wasn't a good country for people to live in, but we couldn't afford to go anywhere else... We weren't old enough to travel anyway… There were fights… There were bombs… Me and Wanda were rioting, about the bombings. We wanted it to stop; we weren't the only ones. One day a man came up to us. He said he could give us the power to save our country. Those were his exact words… We said yes… This man. His name was Strucker- Wolfgang Von Strucker. He… He tested things on us. He tested injections and he strapped us down next to a spear thing… I-I don't know what it was exactly. It had a blue stone in it."

He noticed Barton stiffened at his words but he continued.

"There were about twelve of us. Eight died. Exposure to the spear was just too much for them. The training in Hydra was too intense for them... They weren't strong enough. The experiments worked on four of us. Two, two boys, failed the test. Their powers were out of control. Strucker drowned them. In the river… And then only Wanda and I were left. I was scared… I was scared that they would hurt her. That she would fail." He paused to take in a breath. "But she didn't… I did. And now she's on her own. She's by herself in the lab… And I'll probably never see her again."

"If you couldn't control it then hydra just… Just killed you?" Clint sounded horrified.

Pietro nodded. "The other two were a danger to themselves. And to others. I'm not saying Strucker was right to kill them." He added hurriedly as he saw Barton's expression. "I… I don't know how to control it."

He was breathing heavily now, exhausted from explaining so much. Barton caught him as he collapsed to the side with a gasp of pain. Pietro quickly scrambled away, dragging himself back until he hit a wall.

 _Why can't he just let me help him?_ Clint wondered, looking at the frightened young man.

Pietro's chests was rising and falling quickly as he panted. He suddenly shut his eyes and slipped down the wall, falling to his side. Clint immediately crawled over to him, beginning to wonder if he had fainted.

"Maximoff?" He whispered, hesitantly reaching out a hand and laying it on Pietro's shoulder.

"There's no point anymore." Pietro murmured. "Everything I ever cared for has been taken from me… I have nothing left to lose."

"You shouldn't talk like you've given up."

Pietro opened his eyes, turning his sky-blue gaze to Clint. "I have."

He shrugged off Clint's hand, looking utterly defeated as he shut his eyes again.

"Kid, listen." Barton ordered and Pietro looked up at him. "There are people here who can help you. _I_ could help you… But you've got to start trusting me."

To his astonishment Pietro nodded. He nodded! This Kid who had almost been drowned by Hydra. This Kid who had been experimented on by, what he had described to be, Loki's sceptre. This Kid trusts him. Out of all people this Kid decided to trust, what reporters had often described as, a mental archer assassin. Admittedly, not Clint's preferred title. _Someone trusts me?_ Clint thought to himself as the kid sat up. _Well, that's a first._

Pietro slowly got to his feet and Clint took an earpiece from his pocket, putting it in.

"Stark." He called into the device. Pietro's head shot up at the name, his eyes burning with blue fire. Clint met his stare levelly. "I've got someone for you to meet."

Pietro shook his head fiercely and Clint switched off the communicator.

"Give him a chance to explain Kid." Clint muttered.

"I'll kill him." Pietro growled.

"No. You won't." The archer's gaze softened a little. "I know what you think of him. And, yeah, he can be a bit of a moron sometimes… But he's changed… I think we all have. Hey-" He cut Pietro off as he began to say something. "You said you trusted me. Right? Well trust me on this."

Pietro gave him a long searching look.

"Who are you Clinton Barton?" He asked suddenly, his voice calm, his eyes curious. "Who are you?"

Clint smiled a little. "I'm Hawkeye. I'm an avenger. I hang out with a patriotic super solider, a scientist with major anger management issues, a self-described genius slash philanthropist, a female assassin who kicks my arse on a daily basis and a demigod from another planet. And, in my spare time, I like to fight aliens in New York with a bow and arrow. Any questions?"

Pietro was looking at him with wide eyes, completely bewildered. Clint smirked.

"I'll introduce you to the others."


	3. Chapter 3

Pietro was stood in a room in the avengers tower.

He was standing in front of a wall made of glass, looking over the city of New York. It was morning. The sun was floating in the light blue sky, just a little way above the horizon. A few wisps of cloud drifted around above the buildings. Pietro swallowed, his eyes trying to take in everything at once, finally resting on a spot near the sun. Someone came up beside him but he didn't move his gaze.

"How long has it been since you've seen it?" Clint asked quietly. "The sky... The sun."

"Five years."

Clint flashed him a quick glance. _He's been stuck in a Hydra lab for five years! That means he was only fourteen when he was taken in! Poor Kid…_

Pietro gave a tiny shake of his head, shutting his eyes. "What am I doing here?" He sighed the words.

Clint didn't answer. A door opened and Pietro whipped around. About five people walked into the room, standing in a line about two or three metres ahead of Pietro and Clint. Barton turned around and Pietro drifted his gaze over the line of people. One of the men stepped forward, walking over to them. The man had neat, blonde hair, was wearing black trousers and a white, short-sleeved, t-shirt and he looked down at Pietro curiously. The younger man forced himself not to move. This guy, though his eyes were kind, looked as though he could snap someone's neck in one move.

"Steven Rogers." The man introduced himself, holding a hand to Pietro.

He didn't take it, even after a nudge from Clint. Rogers lowered his hand, inspiring a snort of laughter from one of the others. Pietro flicked his eyes back to the line of avengers. A shorter man with dark hair was smirking.

"I think he left you hanging Steve." He grinned. "Does he know what a handshake is or…"

"Give him a break Tony." Clint murmured. "He's been stuck in a Hydra lab since he was fourteen."

"Yeah, you said." Tony's voice held no trace of compassion. "You also said he volunteered."

"What kind of monster would let someone experiment on them in order to protect their country? Hmm?" Steven's voice was flared with sarcasm as he twisted round to look at Tony. "Stark, you need to learn-"

Pietro froze. Rogers was still talking but Pietro hardly heard him. _Stark… This guy was Stark!_ His power rose inside him, provoked by anger. _Wait, wait, Barton asked me to give him a chance._ But he couldn't control it. This man had been responsible for his parent's deaths. For countless others. Putting on a burst of speed, he raced up to Stark, not slowing as he grabbed him by the throat and forced him up against a wall.

"Pietro!" Clint shouted in alarm.

Stark gripped his hands to Pietro's wrist, trying to force him off as he attempted, and failed, to gasp in the air. Pietro immediately slackened his grip, his eyes wide with horror. _What am I doing!?_ A heavy slam to his head left him sprawled on the floor and a woman was over him in an instant. Her eyes burnt with fighting spirit as she expertly flicked a knife from a sheath on the waist and quickly pressed it to Pietro's neck.

"Nat wait!"

She paused at Clint's yell. The blade was digging into Pietro's neck a little, blood welling at the cut. _She's going to kill me. She's going to kill me._ The woman drew the knife away and Pietro almost gasped with relief as she leapt off of him, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear as she stood up. Pietro scrambled away from her, clumsily getting to his feet. He felt something warm dripping down his neck, onto his chest and raised a hand to where the blade had slit open his skin. Drawing his hand back, he saw his fingers were covered in wet, scarlet blood.

"What the heck is your problem!?" Stark practically yelled from where he leant against the wall, still recovering from the shock of Pietro's attack.

"Your bombs killed his parents Tony!" Clint matched his tone angrily. "He was just a kid! Ten years old!"

Silence encased them. Everyone turned to stare at Pietro with wide, shocked eyes. He raised his head, looking at them in return; he ignored the sickening feeling of blood dripping down his chest. Barton rushed over to him.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, raising a hand to touch the cut.

"I trusted you." Pietro muttered, sharply recoiling.

Clint opened his mouth to speak but obviously couldn't find the words and quickly shut it again with a slight sigh. He gestured for Pietro to follow him with a murmur of "come on." Pietro did so without question. The avengers moved to the sides as he made his way through them. Tony took a step forward.

"Listen, I'm sorry-"

The loathing look Pietro shot at him cut him off. His eyes were filled with hatred and a twinge of grief. Pietro didn't stop walking; just flashing that quick glance at him before following Barton out of the room.

* * *

"It's not too deep. You'll be fine."

Pietro remained completely still as a doctor inspected his wound, not meeting anyone's eyes, not talking to anyone. Clint was sat on the bed beside him, watching him carefully. The doctor hesitantly pulled Pietro's shirt collar down a little, seeing something that made him frown.

"Could you take your shirt off for me?" He asked quietly.

Clint noticed Pietro's jaw clench slightly at the request. _What's up with him? He probably just wants to clean the blood off._ After a moment of silence, Pietro stripped off his top, putting it down beside him on the bed. Clint almost gasped aloud. The Kid's torso was covered with scars and bruises. He was unbelievably thin; Clint could see every individual rib. All the usual signs were there. He'd been beaten, starved and almost definitely tortured. Pietro stiffened, tensing as Clint lay a hand on his back, inspecting a couple of long scratches crossing diagonally over his spine.

Something caught his attention and Clint focused his eyes on the younger man's left shoulder blade. There was a mark there, a stamp of skin which was much whiter than the rest of his body. It looked like a crescent moon on its side; the gap pointing upwards. A dot was in the gap so it looked a little bit like an eye.

Clint's hand wandered up to the mark.

"Don't touch it." Pietro muttered suddenly and Clint froze.

"What is it?"

Pietro looked at him. "It's the brand Hydra gave failed experiments the day before they kill them... Because they want people to suffer before they die. So they coat a burning metal marker in… I don't know… Some kind of acid. And then they press it on your skin."

Clint looked at him in shock. He wasn't sure which was worse, what Pietro said or the fact that he said it so casually.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked gently.

Pietro's face darkened, his eyes haunted. "All the time."

Clint's eyes narrowed in empathy. He looked to the doctor, who was still regarding Pietro's wounds with an expression of subsided horror. "Have you got anything for it?" He queried.

The doctor tore his gaze away from Pietro's scars and, silently, walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room. He fumbled around in there for a moment before finally closing it and tossing a small bottle over to Clint. The archer caught it carefully and stood up, walking over to the doctor.

"I think it's best if I talk to him without anyone here." He whispered, lowering his voice so Pietro wouldn't hear. "It's fine." He interrupted as the doctor began to speak. "I know how to clean the cut."

The doctor slowly nodded, understanding bright in his eyes. He cast another quick glance at Pietro, and briefly explained what Clint had to do with the medicine, before leaving the room. Clint made his way back to Pietro. The younger man was looking at the floor, his hands in his lap, twiddling his thumbs as if he was bored. He didn't move as Clint sat beside him. The archer took a cloth off the bed and touched it to the slit on Pietro's neck. He flinched away a little.

"Making a habit of this." Clint commented, wiping the blood from his chest and throat.

"I didn't mean to." Pietro whispered. "I just…" He sighed. "I couldn't stop myself."

"I get it Kid."

Pietro shook his head unsurely. "I was angry… That's why Strucker came up to us. That's why we volunteered… Because nothing we did could stop it. I-I couldn't stand it. Everyday we'd find out someone else had been caught up in a bombing… Children… Younger than me and Wanda had been. I…"

He broke off, shaking his head again. Clint felt a suddenly surge of empathy towards him. _He's been through terrible times. He's seen things that no kid should ever have to go through._

"I'll find you something to eat after this." He offered. "I expect you're hungry."

Pietro shrugged and turned his head to the right, facing away from Clint. The archer frowned and concentrated on cleaning away the last of the blood. _Surely he must be starving_ , Clint thought to himself. _He looks like he hasn't eaten for days._

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Couple days." Pietro muttered. "I can't really remember."

Clint narrowed his eyes worriedly. He lowered the cloth, putting it down beside him on the bed.

"This is probably going to sting a little." He warned, taking the pipet from the top of the bottle.

He carefully dripped a couple of droplets onto the burn. Pietro tensed, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. "Ah!" He let out a quiet noise of anguish.

"Sorry." Clint apologised quietly.

The doctor had told the archer it would hurt but he hadn't really expected Pietro to show pain. The younger man just didn't seem like that kind of person. _It must hurt a lot._ Pity rushed through Clint. He thought back through his life and reflected on him much burns hurt on their own. Then he imagined acid mixing with that and had to supress a shudder. Another few drops splashed onto his skin and Pietro grunted in pain, clenching his fists so hard they momentarily turned white.

Clint apologised again. "Sorry, one more."

The Kid shut his eyes and winced as Clint dripped the final splashes onto the mark. He blew out a long, calming breath, trying to control the pain. Clint put the pipet back in the bottle and stood up. Walking across the room, he put the bottle back in the cabinet.

"I'll see what I can find for you to eat." Clint threw the words over his shoulder as he walked towards the door. "Stay put, okay?"

Pietro nodded, trying to ignoring the stinging in his back, and Clint walked out of the room, the door shutting quietly behind him.

* * *

 **A/N- Hey Guys! Hope you're enjoying this story so far. Imfine19- It's a great idea and I've already started to write it. I'll try and post it as soon as I can. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Clint lay the tray of food on a small table beside Pietro's bed.

The younger man had fallen asleep while he'd been gone and was now shuffling restlessly on the bed. Clint frowned. Pietro didn't look like he was having a nightmare. He looked like he simply couldn't get comfortable. That was odd. From experience, Clint knew that the hospital beds in the tower were, literally, the most comfortable beds ever. _Maybe he isn't used to sleeping in a bed…_ Clint thought to himself as the kid turned over again, onto his stomach, his head rested on his folded arms. _Did they have beds in the Hydra lab?_ Clint could see that mark again. That and all the scars laced over Pietro's back.

This kid needed to live a normal life for a bit.

Pietro shuffled, murmuring something in his sleep as he rolled to his side. Clint hardly caught the words and it was in a language he didn't understand. _Where did the Kid say he was from again? Sokovia?_ Clint suddenly realised how messy Pietro's white hair was. It looked like it hadn't been properly washed or brushed for a while. Turning over onto his back, one of Pietro's knees rose slightly, one hand over his stomach, the other hanging slightly off the side of the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter for a moment before blinking them open and raising his head to look around the room. His gaze rested on Clint and he pushed his hands against the bed, sitting upright with a slight yawn.

"You can go back to sleep if you want." Clint muttered.

Pietro just shook his head. "I want to go… I need to find my sister."

"Well…" Clint paused, choosing his words carefully. "Sounds to me like she's not in any danger of being thrown off a cliff. And, based on what you've told me, I reckon Hydra will keep her safe. Seeing as she's the only one left. But-" He interrupted Pietro as he began to protest. "I'll tell the others what the problem is and try to convince them to help. Because you're going to need it. Attacking Hydra is basically what we do for a living."

Pietro still looked unsatisfied, so Clint decided to take his mind off it. He took a mug from the tray and passed it to Pietro. The Kid looked at it sceptically before hesitantly taking the hot chocolate and sipping it cautiously.

"What's your story then Kid?"

Pietro swallowed the liquid. "Haven't you heard enough of it?" He asked before taking another gulp.

"What was it like…? In the Hydra lab?" Clint asked, lowering his voice slightly.

The Kid looked at him carefully. There wasn't really any emotion behind that look, just a slight, searching, frown. "Training. Lots of it… Had to toughen you up before exposure to the spear thing."

"It's a sceptre Kid."

"A what?"

Clint tilted his head to one side a little. It was like talking to someone who'd never been outside. Pietro didn't know what a considerable amount of words meant, and had difficulty pronouncing several others. In fact, it was a little bit like teaching a child. He got confused and surprised at weird little things, like simple medical equipment and he was looking bewildered at a plate of various biscuits Clint had just put on the bed beside him. Also, he was wary and jumpy around new people. All this Clint had noticed and he still hardly knew the Kid.

"Sceptre." Clint repeated the word, doing his best not to sound too patronising.

"Sep-ter." Pietro quietly muttered the word, breaking it into halves to make it easier to say. "The sceptre then… Hydra had a training room, mostly practicing our fighting and stuff like that."

"Fighting? Like hand-to-hand combat?" This earned another confused look from Pietro and Clint shook his head, letting out a breath as he searched for a way to explain it. "Umm… Punching and kicking and-"

"Yeah." Pietro cut him off, nodding before he took another sip out of the mug.

"Did they teach you and then you'd practice on punch bags or-?"

Pietro shook his head. "No, they trained us on agents. They didn't teach us anything beforehand. They just put us all in a room and sent some of their agents in to fight us… They… Oh, what did they say?" He looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. "They said they believed in a practical approach or something like that."

Clint's eyes were wide with shock. "They made you fight fully trained agents on the first session!?"

Tilting his head to the side slightly, Pietro nodded. "Yeah… Isn't that how everyone learns?"

 _Are you kidding!? He's not even kidding… He's not kidding._ Clint repeated the phrase over and over in his head. _No wonder he's wary of everyone he meets._ "That's not the normal way. No… What happened then?"

"Don't really remember." Pietro admitted quietly. "Some agent knocked me out while I was trying to protect Wanda… Long time ago…"

"Okay." Clint murmured. "Let's skip ahead a little, shall we? What exactly is your power?"

"Running." Pietro muttered. "At first the Hydra scientists thought I could teleport but then they found out I could just run really fast… I think my emotions somehow tamper with it… I guess that's why I was zooming about all over the place in the lab. And I suppose that's also why I attacked Stark... Tell you what though…" He broke off to finish the hot chocolate and leant over to put the mug back on the table. "The amount of times they shot me was unbelievable."

Seeing Clint's expression he waved a hand.

"Not bullets. Not usually. Like… Umm… Tran… Tranqu…" He let out a frustrated breath as he struggled to pronounce the word. "Sorry, not a clue how to say that."

"Tranquillisers?" Clint guessed. _Wait hang on… Did he say not usually?_

"Yeah, tran… Those darts. I'll be seriously surprised if they have any left."

 _They shot him with tranquilliser darts!? Jesus…_ "Kid…"

"Hmm?"

"That's completely mental."

"Yeah, they are a bit-"

"No, I _know_ Hydra are mental but you…" Clint broke off shaking his head. "You're unbelievable Kid… What you've been through…"

Pietro frowned a little. "What about you? I asked you who you were… You're an avenger… Stark's an avenger… Rogers is an avenger… That woman who tried to slit my throat? I'm guessing she's an avenger too… How many are there?"

"Just me and those other five you saw." Clint replied with half a shrug. "Her names Natasha by the way. Natasha Romanoff. She's not bad once you get to know her."

"Do…" Pietro broke off to take in a breath and then seemed to decide against that question and asked another instead. "What exactly do you do?"

Clint smiled with a slight chuckle. "It'd be easier if I show you."


	5. Chapter 5

"You've got to be kidding me."

Clint grinned at Pietro's shocked expression.

He had taken the Kid into one of the science labs in the tower and switched on one of the holographic 'things' that Tony and Bruce always used. It had taken him a few minutes but he had eventually found and opened the New York avengers file. Pietro was now staring at all the different little screens, showing each individual avenger.

 _Can he read?_ Clint wondered as Pietro's gaze drifted over the abilities and personality of Steve.

"Kid, do you know how to read?"

"A little." Pietro mumbled. "My parents taught me and Wanda a bit... Hydra kinda finish our education… Taught us a bit of computer skills too… Sorry, but what kind of a name is Captain America?" He asked, tilting his head as he watched Steve smash some aliens.

"Well, he's a captain… And he's American."

"And he's ninety apparently." Pietro added, poking the video of Steve and leaping back in surprise when it enlarged.

"Something like that."

"So… Have you got Hydra files on here?" Pietro asked curiously. "About me and Wanda or-?"

"No." Clint cut him off, shaking his head. "We didn't even know you existed Kid. What are you doing?"

Pietro had walked over to a computer, sitting down in the chair and begun to type quickly. Clint followed him curiously. The Kid was what the avengers liked to call 'doing a Tony', and had about 40 windows open at once. The code was unbelievable, the electric looking, green numbers and letters and symbols were stupidly complicated.

"What are you doing?" Clint repeated the question, his eyes flicking around the screen.

"If I get the right code then I can break through Hydra's defences." Pietro explained quickly, his eyes still set on the screen. "Then I don't have to keep explaining everything and you can just see for yourself."

"Kid that's impossible. I don't think even Banner can hack into Hydra."

"Yes, but I've been with Hydra. I've seen them work. I know some of the code already; I saw them type it. If I could just guess the rest correctly…"

Clint watched in disbelief as the Kid broke through firewall after firewall, cracking Hydra's defences and making his way into their files.

"Got it!"

Pietro hit the enter button and whirled around in the desk chair to look at the holographic screen. The images of the avengers wavered and flickered out. It was quickly replaced by pictures of Loki's sceptre and clips of teenagers fighting with agents and scientists injecting the children. Clint put a finger to his earpiece.

"Tony."

"What?"

"Get down here, right now. I'm in lab 5 with Maximoff."

"What the hell is he doing in there!? He tried to freaking kill me Barton and-"

"Stark... He just hacked into Hydra."

* * *

Tony sprinted into the room.

Clint and Pietro whipped around as the door crashed open.

"Oh you are kidding me…" Stark murmured, running up to the screen. "How the…" He turned to Pietro. "How the hell did you do that!?"

The familiar feeling of rage built up inside Pietro. "Code." He forced out the word while trying to control his emotions. "I just… I just typed in the code… Broke through the firewalls and-"

He broke off, sprinting forward, a blue wisp of smoke. Skidding across the room, he hit the wall with his shoulder and let out a quiet grunt of pain. He heard Stark ask something, along the lines of 'What the heck was that?' Leaning heavily against the wall, Pietro opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them, and found Barton in front of him.

"You okay?"

Pietro nodded, pushing himself off the wall. "Fine. Sorry."

"You hacked into Hydra." Tony kept repeating. "You hacked into freaking _Hydra_!"

"Just that section." Pietro muttered. "But yeah… I did."

Clint and Pietro walked up to the screen. The Kid was tense as his gaze flicked over the images. There were 13 sections to the screen- 12 containing pictures and information on children, 1 containing a picture of the Hydra base; some were bigger than others, meaning more information. Clint's gaze travelled over the pictures and names.

Alena Bartos- Female- 20- Deceased at 23 (Exposure to the sceptre)

Jaroslav Laska- Male- 16- Deceased at 20 (Failed experiment)

Ondrej Laska- Male- 19- Deceased at 23 (Failed experiment)

Duška Rybar- Female- 14- Deceased at 15 (Training)

The list went on.

 _Those two boys, Ondrej and Jaroslav…_ Clint thought to himself curiously. _They were related. Brothers possibly…? Does the sceptre work more efficiently on siblings?_ Clint's gaze drifted over the paragraphs of text, the videos and pictures, until his eyes found a name that he had heard Pietro mention before.

Wanda Maximoff- Female- 14- Survivor (Currently 19)

 _Pietro's sister._ The picture was of a short, young girl. Her brown hair was tied in a plait at the back of her head, swept over her shoulder. There was a video of her a little way beneath her picture. She was sat on the floor, circling her hands. A few, small wooden boxes floated around her, shrouded in scarlet mist. Suddenly, she flicked her hands together and the boxes smashed into each other, splintering against themselves. Looking down the paragraph explaining her abilities, Clint nearly got a headache. He hardly understood any of the words. _Telekinetic… That's like… Moving things with your mind? And what does that other thing mean?_

Hs gaze wandered to the final section.

There was a clip of a young boy- his brown hair messy and ruffled- and an agent sparring. As Clint watched, the boy performed a perfect roundhouse kick, catching the agent's jaw. They fought fiercely; both were injured when the boy finally punched the agent into a wall, digging his fingers into the side of the man's neck. The agent fell to the ground, his body limp, motionless apart from the occasional twitch and jerk. The boy swayed and collapsed onto his knees, falling to his side next to the agent, obviously exhausted from the fight.

The scene changed and the boy was strapped to a metal chair, his wrists bonded to the arms of the seat. Loki's sceptre was in front of him. An agent unstrapped one of his arms and forced his hand over the blue stone. Blue smoke rose from the sceptre, flowing into his hand. The boy struggled but couldn't break free, writhing in the chair. He shut his eyes, parting his mouth slightly as his body twisted and thrashed. The videos didn't have sound but Clint knew he was screaming. He looked older this time and his brown hair was streaked white in some places. With a jolt, Clint recognised who it was. He looked up to the picture and status.

Pietro Maximoff- Male- 14- Deceased at 19 (Failed Experiment)

 _Super speed,_ _increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis, sometimes able to heal wounds (power is irregular and does not happen often)_

"This is what Hydra calls experimenting?" Tony murmured quietly.

"This is torture." Clint growled the words angrily. "This is what they did to you for five years?" He asked, turning to Pietro.

The kid nodded, his gaze fixed on the picture of Wanda. "You get used to it… After a couple of years… That-" He pointed to the video of him and an agent fighting. "-was the first time I successfully paralysed someone and fixed it afterwards… Fixing the paralysis- that little act of mercy- got me two weeks of torture…" He titled his head to the side a little. "It's where I got the scratches across my spine. Strucker got annoyed; because, when he said I wasn't good enough to be part of Hydra, I said I'd rather die than join them… So he got the sceptre and whipped it over my back a few times."

"Kid, you're either really brave or unbelievably stupid." Clint muttered. "I reckon the first one though."

"Thanks." Pietro suddenly lowered his voice. "I didn't feel brave… Hiding from the bombs…"

"I'm sorry about your parent's Kid." Tony suddenly spoke up. "I really am."

"I know." Pietro murmured, flashing him a quick glance. "I've seen your file."

"I haven't… What does it say?"

"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist."

Tony smirked. "How about volatile, self-obsessed and doesn't play well with others?"

"That too."

Tony smiled briefly again. Then his face fell, hardening into a frown. "We have to get Loki's sceptre. We have to stop this."

"I'm coming with you." Pietro insisted.

"Not a chance Kid." Tony shook his head, poking a finger to the section of the screen containing the building and location and enlarging it. "Okay, okay-" He cut Pietro off with a few waves of his hands as he began to protest. "First off- You don't exactly have control over your powers yet. Secondly- You aren't trained properly, no offense. And thirdly- Hydra will almost definitely try and kill you as soon as you set foot on their property. Jarvis!" He suddenly called, looking up at the ceiling.

"Yes sir?"

Pietro looked up in surprise as the robotic voice sounded.

"Tell the others to get ready. They've got two hours. Barton-" He clicked to the archer. "Suit up."

"And where shall I tell them they are going sir?" The overly-polite voice asked.

"Sokovia." Tony replied, setting his gaze on Pietro. "We're going to take down a Hydra base."

* * *

 **A/N- Sorry, I kind of had a month off. I'll try not to make it a habit (cross-fingers).**  
 **Anyway, hope you guys liked this chapter, there's more on the way.**

 **~Eniko**


	6. Chapter 6

Pietro was sat on a sofa in one of the rooms of the avengers tower.

It was the room where he had first met the avengers. Where he had attacked Tony Stark. The room that he had heard Stark once refer to as 'The Party Deck'. He couldn't really imagine the superhero's having a party though.

Pietro stood up and raced over to the window, overlooking the city. He let out a frustrated breath, pacing up and down the length of the window impatiently.

"Is something the matter Mr Maximoff?" The voice of Jarvis met his ears.

"Shouldn't they be back by now?" Pietro asked, looking up for the source of the voice. "It's been almost two days! Why is it taking so long?"

"Mr Stark and the others have been on missions for longer, sir." Jarvis reminded him. "However, they should be back any minute now."

As if his words were a signal, a small black dot appeared on the horizon. It was that Jet the avengers used. _What had Clint called it…? A Queenjet? Quenjet? Quinjet! That's it!_ The Quinjet gradually flew closer, landing on the platform attached to the outside of the 'Party deck'. The door leading to the platform was flung open and the avengers made their way in. Tony was cautiously holding the sceptre. They all looked to be uninjured. _Hang on… Where's Clint?_

Clint appeared, but instead of being relieved, Pietro's heart leapt to his throat. The archer was lying on a bed, which Natasha was pushing down the ramp of the jet. Doctor's immediately swarmed them, calling to each other in a foreign language. _He's hurt._

Pietro sped up to him. Clint was groaning; a hand clutched to his right side and his breathing was ragged and slightly elevated.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Pietro asked quickly, matching the doctor's pace as they wheeled the bed along.

"He got shot by a Hydra gun." Natasha explained briefly.

"How did _he_ get shot?" Pietro asked, gesturing to Clint.

"Your sister." Natasha murmured.

"Threw one of my exploding arrows back at me." Clint explained through gritted teeth. "Jumped out the way. She threw me back on the ground. When I got up she'd disappeared. Took a laser burn to the side."

"Hydra's changed her." Pietro muttered, half to himself. "I need to find her."

"She ran off." Natasha told him. "She's not in the Hydra base anymore… I think she went home."

"She doesn't have one." Pietro growled.

They made their way down the twisting corridors and into a medical room. Barton shut his eyes, wincing as two doctors lifted him onto a type of stone table. A doctor came over to him, leaning down and lifting the bottom of his shirt.

"Nice bandage work Natasha." She acknowledged while untying the bandage from Clint's torso. "Shirt off Hawk."

Clint smiled a little, opening his eyes. "You ordering me around now Doctor Cho?"

"Take your top off Clint." Natasha ordered.

"Oh, only for you Tasha." Clint teased with a breathy chuckle.

He slowly stripped off his shirt, wincing and gasping in pain. Doctor Cho took the bandage away, putting it down on the stone beside the archer. Pietro's eyes widened. A large patch of skin had burnt away from the side of Clint's chest.

"You can save him, can't you?" Natasha asked, looking to Cho. "Pretending to need this guy really brings the team together." She joked.

Clint grinned. "I'm only human Tash."

"Of course I can." Cho replied calmly. "Probably going to need the cradle though. To replace his skin."

"Great." Clint muttered sarcastically. "So, I'm going to be made of plastic?"

"You'll be made of you. Your girlfriend won't even be able to tell the difference." Doctor Cho told him, inspecting his injury.

"Well, I don't have a girlfriend." Clint murmured.

"That I can't fix."

Pietro didn't miss the little glance he and Natasha exchanged. _They aren't together are they?_ No, it wasn't that kind of look. It was a look that said _'We know something we're not sharing'._ Pietro shook the thought away. It didn't matter at the moment. Clint had shut his eyes again, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he breathed. _Is he dying?_

"Clint?" Doctor Cho gently raised one of the archer's eyelids, inspecting his eye carefully. "He's fainted." She muttered under her breath.

Pietro felt his power flicker but he fought it back. Now wasn't the time for that. His eyes widened suddenly. Maybe it was. _My Hydra report… It said I might be able to heal wounds... Come to think of it I may have already healed an injury or two… Hyper metabolism… But that would only work if I got my blood on the injury…_

"Romanoff, may I borrow your knife." He asked slowly.

Natasha frowned, bending down and taking the knife from a sheath on her leg. She held it by the blade, offering the hilt to Pietro. "Why?"

Pietro took the dagger without a word, resting the blade on his palm.

Doctor Cho flashed a glance over her shoulder, straightening up in shock. "Wait-"

She didn't get to finish her sentence. Pietro dug in the blade, slicing it horizontally along his palm and slitting a deep cut in his flesh. Blood welled in the path of the metal, dripping down his hand. Pietro dropped the knife, moving to stand beside Clint, and pressed his bleeding hand to the archer's wound.

"What are you doing!?" Doctor Cho asked in shock.

"Wait, wait!" Pietro ordered, trying to concentrate on summoning his healing power. "I've got this thing I can do sometimes. It might work on Clint. Just let me try."

Cho looked to Natasha, a desperate question in her eyes. Natasha looked a little bewildered but nodded anyway. Clint's eyes flickered open and he let out a quiet moan, flinching away from Pietro a little.

"What're you doing Kid?" He murmured.

"Experimenting." Pietro muttered bluntly.

"Pietro…"

"Shh!" Pietro hushed him sharply. He could almost feel Clint's strength ebbing away when the archer spoke. "Just trust me. Okay?"

Clint inclined his head in a single nod and Pietro held his gaze for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the wound. _Come on, come on please work!_ The cut in his hand stung; blood was dripping down the side of Clint's chest. His shut his eyes tightly for a second, opening them with a slight gasp as he felt his power rush through his blood. The underside of Pietro's hand began to glow a dim blue and he almost leapt away in shock as the light spilled out.

"Oh my god…" Doctor Cho whispered, her eyes fixed on Pietro's hand.

Pietro stayed with his hand pressed to Clint's injury for as long as he physically could, eyes narrowed in concentration. He could feel his strength evaporating, his heart slowing, but it was only when he wasn't strong enough to stand that he pulled away. Pietro staggered back a few paces, his breathing quick. He collapsed to one side, hearing Clint shout his name before his head hit the ground and darkness slammed down over his eyes.

* * *

"Kid! Pietro, come on. Wake up!"

A hand lightly slapped the side of his face and Pietro blinked open his eyes with a slight, breathy groan. Clint was knelt in front of him, his eyes glistened with worry. The archer put a hand to his shoulder as Pietro tried to sit up.

"Lie still for a moment." He suggested gently.

"What happened?" Pietro moaned, dropping his head back down.

"You passed out." Doctor Cho explained from beside Clint. "Do you feel sick at all?" She asked, laying a hand to his forehead. "Dizzy or-"

"Fine." Pietro muttered, a little uncomfortable at having someone touch him. "I'm fine."

 _Oh she's a doctor for goodness sake. Pull yourself together Maximoff,_ he told himself sternly. His gaze flicked to Clint, looking down the right side of his torso. There was no sign of an injury. Smudges of blood were visible down his side but Pietro knew it wasn't Clint's. _It worked!_ A smile of satisfaction crossed his face and he sat up, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"How's your hand?" Doctor Cho asked, reaching out to touch it.

Pietro recoiled sharply and she froze.

"She's not going to hurt you Kid." Clint promised kindly.

Pietro nodded, half embarrassed by his reluctance to trust people. It made him seem childish. _I_ _ **am**_ _acting like a child. These aren't bad people. They're not Hydra._ Cho reached out again, slower and more hesitant this time. She took hold of his wrist and carefully forced his hand open. Pietro frowned. It hadn't healed nearly as well as Clint's injury had.

The cut had stopped bleeding and there was now a thick scar across his palm; his fast metabolism had helped to knit his flesh back together. _Guess I used my healing skills on Clint,_ Pietro thought to himself as Doctor Cho examined the wound. _Didn't have much left for myself that time._

"Seems you've already begun to heal yourself." She commented quietly.

Pietro didn't reply, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him. He yawned quietly and he and Clint exchanged a knowing look.

"Sleep?" Clint wondered aloud and Pietro nodded. "I'll take you back to your room."


	7. Chapter 7

A muffled laughter woke Pietro.

He looked around the room, liking how he immediately knew, and was comfortable, with where he was. He threw off the blanket and slipped off the edge of the bed, quickly changing from pyjamas into some day clothes Clint had found for him- black trousers and a pale blue shirt. Running a hand through his ruffled hair, he sped over to the door, poking his head out. There was no one in sight. He walked out of his room, shutting the door behind him. The corridor was deserted.

For a short time anyway.

"Were you even invited?"

" _You_ invited me Tony."

Stark came into view with another man walking beside him. Their paces matched. Tony caught Pietro's eye and grinned.

"Hey Kid." He greeted, sounding cheerful as he halted beside Pietro. "Are you coming down? We weren't sure whether to wake you or not."

"Down for what?" Pietro tilted his head to the side, flashing a quick, wary glance at the man beside Tony.

Stark obviously didn't miss the look. "Ah! You two haven't met. Rhodey, Maximoff. Yeah, want to shake hands or something?"

"James Rhodes." The man offered his hand to Pietro.

"Pietro Maximoff." He took it and they shook hands briefly.

Tony stifled a laugh. "Look at you two being all professional. Come on." He waved a hand, gesturing for them to follow.

Stark led the way down the corridor and to the lift.

"What's that?" Pietro found himself asking as Tony pressed a button on the wall beside the metal doors.

Rhodes frowned, looking at him curiously. "Have you never seen a lift before?"

Pietro shook his head, looking warily at the doors and Tony quickly explained. "He's from Sokovia." He murmured quietly to Rhodes. "And then he was stuck in a Hydra lab for a couple years."

"How many years exactly?"

"Like five."

James widened his eyes, looking at Pietro in shock. "How old are you?" He asked curiously.

"Nineteen." Pietro muttered.

"Jesus-"

"Leave it man." Tony cut him off.

The lift arrived at their floor and Stark and Rhodes got in. Pietro lingered back, reluctant to enter to tiny metal room. Stark tipped his head, gesturing for him to come.

"It's fine Kid, come on."

Pietro swallowed and walked in, looking around cautiously. Few words were exchanged as Tony pressed a button on the wall and it moved down the levels. Pietro gripped his hands to the bar on the wall behind him, an odd swooping sensation in his chest.

"This is weird." He muttered, his gaze flicking warily around the ceiling.

Tony tipped his head to one side, trying to imagine what this was like for him. To wake up in a strange place with new people and weird things you've never seen before. _He must be scared,_ Tony thought, a rush of sympathy suddenly running through him. _Time to get him back into the real world._

The metal doors parted, sliding open and they all stepped out.

"Whoa." Pietro breathed.

They had arrived at the party deck. There were people there who Pietro had never seen. _There's an actual party on the party deck,_ he thought, half amused, half wary. _So many people._

"Why are all these people here?" He raised his voice a little, above the music and talking.

"It's a party Kid." Tony replied, smiling. "We're celebrating capturing that Hydra base… Now, go on."

"What am I supposed to do?" Pietro wondered aloud.

"Mingle. Walk around. Act like you own the place." Tony answered with a slight shrug. "Works for me."

 _But you do own the place…_ Pietro was about to point out before Tony got distracted. He raised a hand, seeing Thor, and strode over to him. Rhodes rolled his eyes and took a step forward to join him before turning back to Pietro.

"Don't do what Tony does." He suggested with a grin. "He's a moron."

With that he walked off.

Pietro quickly scanned the room, catching sight of a few half familiar faces. All the avengers were there, scattered around the room, along with some doctors Pietro recognised and a lot of other people who were unfamiliar. Barton was stood alone against a wall on the far side of the room, drinking a red coloured cocktail. Pietro was considering going to talk to him when he suddenly caught Pietro's eye and grinned, beckoning him over.

"Didn't expect to see you here Kid." He remarked as Pietro halted beside him. "How's the hand?"

"It's fine." He replied, subconsciously looking down at it. The scar was thinner and looked old. "Nearly healed."

"Good. Thanks for that by the way." Clint nodded his gratitude. "Want a drink?"

Pietro shook his head. "No thanks. It's illegal anyway."

"Not here it-"

"Clinton!"

They both looked to the right. A woman stopped beside Barton, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Don't call me that." Clint groaned, stifling a laugh.

The woman smiled before her face fell a little. "I heard you were injured in the fight. What happened?"

"Oh, don't tell me you don't know Maria." Clint smirked. "I bet you've read the file about twenty times."

"Twenty one." She joked, inspiring a chuckle from Clint. "Anyway I meant afterwards. Did Helen treat it?"

Clint sipped his drink before shaking his head. "She was going to… But this guy-" He tilted his head in Pietro's direction. "-healed it before she had the chance. Pietro, this is Mara Hill. She's a shield agent. Maria, Pietro Maximoff. He's…" Clint narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, looking at Pietro. "Is mutant the right word? No, that's weird. Genetically advanced we'll say."

"Hi." Pietro greeted.

"Hey." Maria tipped her head to the side, turning back to Clint. "Where'd you pick him up?"

"Some river in Hungary."

"Hungary?" Pietro muttered aloud, frowning in confusion.

"Not Sokovia?" Hill mumbled.

"What?"

"What?"

She looked at Pietro. "Shield has a file on you. Sokovian citizen. Orphaned at ten when your house was hit by one of Stark's bombs. Volunteered for Hydra's experiments at fourteen along with your sister and a several other rioters."

"You know-" Clint broke off to take another sip of his drink. "-this information would have been real helpful when I'd found him."

"Make me sound like a stray dog." Pietro muttered.

Clint laughed at that. "What else have you got then Hill?"

"That's about it." Maria admitted with a shrug. "He vanished off the face of the earth. We can't hack into Hydra you know."

"He can." Clint waved a hand, cutting her off as she began to exclaim ' _What!?'_ "Yes, yes okay. We've had that from Tony thanks. I'll probably send you the file or something. Let's not talk about it now."

"Okay." Maria agreed quietly, glancing at Pietro, who was looking a little uncomfortable at being centre of conversation. "What were you doing in Hungary?"

"Oh, you know." Clint finished his drink. "Just visiting an old friend."

"A city isn't a friend Clint."

The archer smiled, his eyes flicking up as feedback buzzed through the air. "Heads up. Stark's doing a speech."

"Again." Maria grinned, leaning back against the wall.

"Okiedokie then." Tony called into the microphone. "Hi everyone. Friends of the avengers. Don't know a few of you, but I'm sure you know me, and you'll almost certainly grow to love me by the end of the night." Amused smirks and chuckles met his words. "Ah, sarcasm… Wonderful thing." Tony murmured. "Anyway… We did a cool thing. Smashing down a Hydra base, hmm? Pretty impressive. Well… _Most_ of us were super cool. But one moron… Went and got himself shot." A few people turned round to glance at Clint and he briefly raised his glass to Tony, smiling. "I'm kidding Legolas. Glad you made a full recovery. Pretty freaking quickly too. That's thanks to the guy standing next to him. That's Pietro. Not too keen on strangers, medical miracle, hacked into Hydra. You know, the norm in this place. Well, tried to kill me first time we met but-"

"Goes for most people who know you Tony!" Rhodes joked, inspiring a surge of laughter from everyone else.

Tony pointed at him. "Thank you for that, Rhodey. Awesome that you knew what I was about to say. 'But that goes for most people.' Looking at you Thor!" He scanned the room. "Well, I would be if I could find you."

"If I remember correctly Stark." Thor's deep voice called from across the room, near the bar. " _You_ attacked _me._ "

"You were both fighting like children." Steve joined in from beside Thor.

"I swear these speeches just turn into a conversation between the six of us." Natasha mentioned, grinning. "Just wrap it up Tony, so we can all get back to our lives."

"Okay, okay." Tony held a hand to her. "So 'wrapping it up'-" He made inverted comma motions with his hands. "Hawk, well done for not dying. Pietro, same and awesome job with the hacking and generally putting up with stuff. The rest of you, I expect something for me to ramble about next time. Try not to do a Clint though, don't want any more shootings. So, everyone have a drink and, remember, you can leave whenever you want."

He dropped the microphone, putting his hands up defensively as people applauded him.

"He's quite the public speaker, isn't he?" Pietro muttered to Clint.

The archer grinned. "He thinks he's funny… It's hilarious."


	8. Chapter 8

"Whoever, be he worthy, shall haveth the power... Whatever man! It's a trick."

Pietro grinned as Clint twirled the drumsticks. Thor was smiling at him from the chair opposite. Clint was convinced it was a trick. And Pietro partly agreed with him. A hammer that can only be lifted by someone like Thor? A person 'worthy' enough to lift the hammer, apparently had the right to rule a place in space called Asgard? Pietro didn't get it. He didn't think anyone could ever begin to explain to him.

"Well, please, be my guest." Thor offered, gesturing to his hammer, which was rested on the table. "Come on."

"Really?" Clint asked, as if he couldn't believe Thor was asking such a simple thing.

"Yeah."

Clint put his sticks together, heaving himself off the floor from between Pietro and Maria. He held the drumsticks in one hand, walking over to the hammer, looking down at it with judging eyes.

"Now, Clint. You've had a tough couple days." Tony said, teasingly. "We won't hold it against you if you can't get it up."

A few quiet laughs met his words and Clint raised his eyebrows at Thor. He hovered his hand over the handle of the hammer. "You know I've seen this before right?"

The man smiled and inclined his head in a single nod, inviting him. Clint gripped the hilt, straining the muscles in his arm as he tried to lift the hammer. After a few seconds he released the handle, stepping back with a laugh.

"And I still don't know how you do it." He chuckled, looking down at the hammer.

"Smell the silent judgement?" Stark muttered, looking up at him.

"Please, Stark." Clint invited, holding his hand to Tony. "By all means."

Stark got to his feet, humming out a breath. This inspired a couple of 'Oh here we goes' and 'Uh ohs' from the others. He wandered over to the hammer. "Never one to shrink from an honest challenge." He murmured passing Clint as the archer went to sit back on the floor.

"Get after it." Clint smirked.

"It's physics." Tony told them, putting his hand in the strap at the end of the handle and gripping the hilt. "So, if I lift it then I get to rule Asgard?" He asked, glancing at Thor.

"Yes, of course." Thor replied smugly.

"I will be re-instituting Prima Nocta."

Stark tugged on the hammer, one foot on the table. He let out a quiet, strained growl as he attempted to lift it. Relaxing with a slight sigh, he unwrapped his hand from the strap, looking around the avengers. "Be right back."

Pietro watched with amusement as Tony repositioned himself, the thrusters on the ironman arm roaring.

"You okay?" He muttered to Clint.

The archer was rubbing his side, where he had been injured. He briefly smiled at Pietro before turning his gaze back to Rhodes and Stark, who were both working together to try and lift Thor's weapon. "Fine. Just aches a little."

Pietro nodded in understanding. "Yeah, it did for me too. I remember one time and agent shot me through the leg in a training session. Went to bed that night. When I woke up it was completely healed. Didn't know how it had happened at the time-"

"Wait, wait, wait… They shot you!?" Clint exclaimed quietly.

"The first time was because I tried to help Wanda." Pietro explained. "We were all in a training room, all with a different agent to fight with. I kind of… I kind of lost it when the agent with Wanda hit her too hard. So I basically punched the guy and then the person training with me took a gun out and sent a bullet through my thigh."

"That's mental." Clint commented in a hushed voice.

Pietro shrugged, looking back to the hammer. Bruce sat down on the sofa, looking a little sheepish but amused.

"Miss Romanoff?" He invited, smiling as he held his hands out to her.

"Oh, no." Natasha took another sip of her wine. "That's not a question I need answered."

Amused smirks and chuckles met her words. Stark sent a little, mocking bow in her direction.

"Maximoff?"

Pietro looked up in surprise. Stark gestured to the hammer and Clint pushed Pietro up. "Go on Kid, have a try."

He grudgingly walked over to the hammer, taking hold of the handle. Tugging it a little, his hands slipped up the hilt and he repositioned himself, pulling on it again.

Steve raised a hand, pointing at it. "Did anyone else see that move?"

"No, of course it didn't move." Thor protested, keeping his voice carefully level. "You are seeing things my friend."

Pietro grinned. _Of course it didn't move._ But he tried again anyway. _Nope._ He smirked as Steve insisted that he had seen it move again and Thor denied it. Sitting back down beside Clint, the archer narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, looking from Pietro, to the hammer and back again.

"C'mon Cap."

Barton switched his attention back to the hammer. Steve gripped both hands to the handle, pulling it with a strained grunt. _That moved,_ Pietro thought to himself. The hammer had risen, ever so slightly, but he said nothing. Steve took a step back, his hands held up in defeat. Thor laughed.

"Nothing." He exclaimed, cheerfully.

Tony stood in front of them, waving his hands. "The handle's imprinted, right? So, whosoever is carrying Thor's fingerprints is, I think, the literal translation."

"Yes," Thor stood up. "Well, that's, uh… A very interesting theory. But I have a simpler one." He took the hammer, easily lifting it up and tossing it into the air. It spun once before he caught it again, looking around. "You're all not worthy."

Several half-offended, half-amused, chuckles and laughs rose from the avengers, along with collective groans and rolled eyes. They were cut off abruptly as a screeching sound ripped through the air, like sharp, high-pitched feedback buzzing through a microphone. Pietro raised a hand to his ear, wincing. He caught sight of the avengers, all staring at something across the opposite side of the room. Rogers slowly got from his seat and Clint stood up, his fists clenched. Pietro got to his feet, his eyes widening as he saw what they were looking at.

A mangled ironman suit limped into view, wires spilling from its crushed form.

"Worthy... No... How could you be worthy? You're all killers."

Its voice was cold and cruel, like ice. The suit staggered and swayed, like it didn't know how to stand properly. Pietro flashed a quick glance at the avengers. He spotted Maria loading a gun. Thor secretly beckoned for Helen (Doctor Cho) to move, and she slowly got up, edging her way to the side of the room. Battle spirit was flashing in their eyes. Pietro could see it.

"Stark." Steve murmured warningly.

"Jarvis?" Tony called to his artificial intelligence.

He didn't get an answer.

"There was this...terrible noise...and I was tangled in... in... strings." The voice continued, the suit waving its half shattered arms. "Had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy."

"You killed someone?" Steve asked, taking a small step forward.

The suit began speaking again. Clint looked over his shoulder, to Pietro, who was stood half behind, half beside, him. He tilted his head a little, a clear command for Pietro to go. To get somewhere safe. He wasn't sure if he was scared or impressed when Pietro shook his head a little. A bit of both.

"Ultron." Bruce exclaimed.

 _What the hell is Ultron!?_ Pietro wondered anxiously. _Is that Ultron?_

"In the flesh." The suit commented, confirming Pietro's thoughts. "Or, no, not yet. Not this...chrysalis… I'm ready." Ultron murmured quietly. "I'm on a mission."

"What mission?" Steve demanded.

The suit looked at them, seeming to be meeting all their eyes at the same time. "Peace in our time."

The wall behind Ultron exploded and Clint forced Pietro's head down as a few broken ironman suits crashed through the wall.

"Stay down Kid!" Clint raised his voice over the yelling and shooting. "Don't get involved."

"But I want to help!" Pietro protested.

Clint opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as a suit rammed into his side, sending him crashing to the ground. Pietro zoomed up, smashing his elbow at the suits face, denting it a little. The suit lunged for him but he sped out the way.

"We are here to help…" The suits were calling. "We are here to help… It's unsafe…"

A loud yell met Pietro's ears and he spun around. A suit had Rogers pinned to the wall about three feet up; the captain was struggling against it. Pietro sped forward, zooming up the ramp and leaping off. He landed on the suit, dragging it towards the ground. There was a clanging noise. The suit broke beneath Pietro and he plummeted to the floor, landing in a skilled crouch. Steven appeared beside him.

"Thanks Kid." Steve looked to Pietro, nodding his gratitude.

Pietro inclined his head in a quick acknowledgement. He whipped round, scanning the room. A suit flipped the table that Helen was sheltering under and a scream ripped through the air. Speeding over, Pietro smashed his shoulder into the suit, making it fall. When it got up, he did it again, speeding back and forth until the suit was too battered to stand. A heavy weight crashed into him, forcing him up against the wall.

"We are here to help…"

Pietro writhed in the suits grasp, thrashing and kicking at super speed. He eventually kicked the suit away and Thor threw his hammer at it, smashing open its head. The final suit flew past Pietro, sweeping him off his feet on its way to attack Clint. The archer neatly sidestepped it and pushed it into the wall behind him. Steve leapt over, pinning the suit down and punching its face into the floor.

Ultron, who hadn't moved, looked around at them. "Well that was dramatic... I'm sorry, I know you mean well…"

As the voice continued, Pietro pushed a hand against the floor, attempting to get up. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder and he fell onto his other arm, using it to prop his torso up slightly. He just lay there, trying to pay attention to Ultron's words, but the pain in his shoulder was distracting him. He could feel shatters of glass from the floor digging into his arm and he looked up, meeting Clint's gaze for a heartbeat. The archer narrowed his eyes momentarily, obviously sensing that something was wrong.

"There's only one path to peace… The Avengers' extinction." The voice told them icily.

 _Extinction!? Is he going to try and murder them all?_ Pietro asked himself. _They're Heroes… Aren't they?_ Rushed footsteps met his ears and Clint crouched in front of him. Pietro shifted a little, planning on getting up. If Ultron was going to attack again then he wanted to be standing. The archer held him still with one of his hands, looking at him worriedly before turning to glare at the suit.

Thor threw his hammer angrily. It hit the suit in its battered metal stomach, splitting it apart and causing it to crash to the ground. The blue-lit eye slot flickered and the, now motionless, suit spoke again.

"I had strings, but now I'm free…"

The light went out and the avengers were silent. Tony's footsteps broke the silence as he ran up one of the ramps and through a door. The others frowned at each other and went after him. Clint stayed, crouched beside Pietro. He finally tore his gaze away from the suit, flicking his eyes down at Pietro.

"Are you alright?" Clint questioned, worry sharp in his eyes. "Are you hurt?"

Pietro shook his head, shifting his arm to push himself up. "Shoulder just aches a bit… It's nothing."

Clint looked unconvinced and called for Doctor Cho, who was already making her way over to them. She knelt beside Pietro and he heaved himself into a sitting position.

"I'm fine." Pietro insisted. "It only hurts when I- Ah!"

Doctor Cho gently pressed down on his shoulder again and he winced, this time withholding a gasp of pain. "You've dislocated it." She told him calmly. "I'm going to put it back on three. Okay?" Pietro nodded. "Right… one-"

She quickly snapped his shoulder up and he gritted his teeth. "Ow, that wasn't three!" He grumbled, flexing his arm experimentally.

Clint smirked a little and stood up, holding his hand out to Pietro. The younger man took it, gripping the archer's wrist, and Clint pulled him to his feet. Clint led the way up the ramp and out of the room, reaching a laboratory of some kind and opened the door. The Avengers were all inside; Thor had Stark by the throat, raised into the air slightly.

"Thor! Put him down!" Steve ordered sternly. Thor reluctantly did so. "The suit?"

"Trail went cold about 100 miles out…" Thor began, gruffly. "But it's headed north, and it has the sceptre. Now we have to retrieve it." Thor muttered, glaring at Tony. "Again."

 _Seriously? Again with the sceptre?_ Pietro thought, understanding about half of the conversation. _Come on, Barton got shot last time you tried to get that thing._ Speaking of Barton, he appeared beside Pietro with some tweezers, beginning to pick bits of glass out of his arm. Pietro flinched and shook his head, taking the object from Clint and insisting he could do it himself.

"I don't understand. You built this program." Helen looked at Tony. "Why is it trying to kill us?"

Tony suddenly laughed quietly, lowering his gaze to the floor. Clint frowned at him and Pietro looked up from taking a shard of glass from his forearm. Banner shook his head, making a sound that told him that wasn't the right reaction.

"You think this is funny?" Thor demanded angrily.

"No. It's probably not, right? Is this very terrible? Is it so..." Tony grinned. "It is, it's so terrible."

"This could've been avoided if you hadn't played with something you don't understand." Thor told him, pointing his hammer at the man.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It _is_ funny." Tony looked around them. "It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this."

"Tony, maybe this might not be the time." Bruce warned quietly.

"Really?! That's it?" Tony exclaimed, looking to him. "You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls?"

Bruce looked at him, exasperated. "Only when I've created a murder-bot!"

"We didn't. We weren't even close. Were we close to an interface?"

"Well, you did something right. And you did it right here." Steve took a step forward. "The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD!"

"Stop it!"

Everyone turned to stare at Pietro, eyes wide with disbelief. _Oh damn it… Well done! You just spoke up to the Avengers. Probably got on the bad side of every one of 'earth's mightiest heroes'._ He swallowed uncomfortably, putting the tweezers down on a table behind him.

"You guys keep saying you're a team." He murmured. "Then act like it." _And giving orders now. You complete and utter-_ "Look… I don't know what's going on. I don't know why I'm here. By all rights I should be starving on the streets of Sokovia cause someone here felt the urge to kill a couple hundred innocent people. I know you don't do that anymore." He added as Tony took a step forward. "I know you didn't mean to do that. But it happened and you can't run from it…" Pietro exhaled a quiet sigh. "I just want to go find my sister. But I've got in a little too deep here. And I'm going to help you get that sceptre back. I am not going to have anyone else suffering because of it."

No one said anything for a while. No one moved for what seemed like several years. _Okay, someone say something. I don't care if its 'go back and starve'._ Steve narrowed his eyes curiously, tilting his head to the side a little. He turned to the others, raising an arm to Pietro.

"This kids an avenger."

 _Okay… That I wasn't expecting._ Pietro's eyes widened in shock. "Uh… What?"

"Provided you want to be." Steve added, his face serious.

"No."

Pietro looked around in surprise as the word met his ears. Clint was stood a little way behind him, his arms folded. The archer's expression was unusually stern but that kind of, oddly, suited him.

"You answering for him?" Tony muttered under his breath.

"He's a child." Clint reminded them. "You can't ask a nineteen year old to fight. That's not fair."

 _I'm not a child!_ Pietro thought, irritated. _Why does everyone keep calling me a kid?_

"It's his choice." Steve turned to Pietro. "Would you like to be an avenger?"

Pietro hardly hesitated, just flashing a quick glance at Clint before looking back at Steve and giving one nod of his head.

"Yes."


	9. Chapter 9

Pietro's eyes shot open with a gasp.

Practically choking on his own breaths, he sat up, raising a hand to his throat as he attempted to slow his rapid breathing. Sweat sheened over his skin and he was trembling slightly, though not from cold, he supposed from shock. That nightmare had been something else.

A hand lay to his shoulder and he flinched, reflexes kicking in as he flailed in that direction.

"Whoa! Steady kid. Steady…" A familiar voice soothed gently, and a second later Clint slowly got onto the bed, kneeling in front of him with both hands to his shoulders. "Just a nightmare, okay? It was only a dream. You're safe."

 _Safe…_

Pietro let his gaze drift slightly. He was in his room, in the tower. He had his own room now, as opposed to the medical facility he'd previously been staying in. It wasn't anything special according to Stark, but Pietro thought it was amazing. The room was square, the door in the centre of the far wall, the bed opposite and pushed up against the left wall. There was a bedside table next to the bed, a white lamp on that. The walls were grey, but a nice shade of grey- Pietro thought so anyway.

The widow was Pietro's favourite feature. He liked to sit on the windowsill and just stare at the sky, watching the clouds roll past. He'd watched the sun come up this morning but had fallen asleep again after the event. It had been beautiful.

Pietro, who had now managed to slow his breathing to normal speed, sat up cross-legged on the bed. He raised a hand, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, swiping white strands out of his eyes. Clint dropped his hands from the young man's shoulders.

"You okay now?"

Pietro nodded absently. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good." He looked at the archer curiously. Clint was wearing his mission clothes, missing his quiver and bow, but apart from that he looked set to go infiltrate a hydra base. "Are you going out?"

Clint nodded. "We got a lead on Ultron. Heading off to Africa in ten minutes." He gave Pietro a brief smile. "You gonna be alright without us here?"

"What do you mean?" Pietro asked, frowning. "Why can't I come?"

The archer shook his head, lowering his gaze. "Cap asked me to go and tell you to suit up but I… I said you weren't ready. I asked him to give you a bit of time to get used to all of this before letting you go on missions."

"How am I meant to be an avenger if you won't let me take part in missions?" Pietro questioned, getting up and slipping off the edge of the bed. "Let me come, please."

Clint sighed. "Kid, it's dangerous."

"I've been in danger before now. I will be in it after now." Pietro reasoned quietly, taking his pyjama top off. "I will come. Even if you don't let me fight-" He pulled a silver and blue shirt over his head, turning to face Clint. "I want to be there."

The archer sighed, shaking his head disbelievingly. "You're not gonna quit it are you kid?" Pietro smiled a little, his eyes set on his hands as he arranged the sleeves on his shirt. Clint threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. But you're not fighting. We're going head on with Ultron, you're not ready for that yet. You can stay in the jet with Banner. Is that fair?"

"Not really, but I'll take it." Pietro said with a slight smirk. "I expect you need to get your bow. I'll meet you in the Quinjet."

* * *

"So you're coming then?"

Pietro looked up, jumping a little in surprise as he saw all of the avengers were stood in a group in front of him. Natasha had spoken, he arms folded as she looked down at him.

They were in the Quinjet. Pietro was sat on one of the seats to the side; he had previously been fumbling with his hands before he'd been interrupted. He nodded, sweeping his white hair from his eyes. Natasha's usually serious face broke into a smile and she flashed a glance back at Clint.

"Didn't think Hawk would let you come." She commented, making Clint huff out a, vaguely irritated, sigh. "You'd better learn to speak for yourself or you'll never get anything done. I doubt Clint'll let you use the toaster cause he'd be scared of you burning yourself."

Pietro blinked in confusion but the others- who had dispersed around the jet- were laughing, so he supposed it would be funny if he knew what a toaster was. He was starting to feel like an idiot. What on earth was he doing here? What right did he have to converse with, to go on missions with, even to be in the same room as these people? Rhodes had been surprised when he hadn't known what an elevator was. Pietro really needed to learn the simple things.

"You okay kid?" Clint asked.

Pietro looked up, unaware he'd bowed his head, and found Clint sat beside him. The others were scattered around the jet, Natasha in the pilot's seat. The engines roared to life, the jet flying so smoothly that Pietro could barely feel it. Next to him, Clint frowned and Pietro decided he'd better reply before the archer started worrying.

"Yeah, I'm fine…" He answered, completely conscious of how unconvincing he'd sounded. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Wanda."

That wasn't a lie. Pietro was always thinking about Wanda. He was constantly worried about her, fearing she thought he was dead. He needed to see her, to tell her he was alright.

Clint hesitantly moved a hand up, laying it to Pietro's shoulder. "We'll find her." He promised gently. "I swear to you, we'll find her, and I-We… We'll keep you both safe."

Pietro turned his him, a grateful smile touching his lips. "Thank you… For everything." He sighed, shaking his head and turning his gaze to the other side. "Why do you do this? Why did you pull me out that river?"

Clint smiled, giving a quiet chuckle. "You think I'd just let you drown…? I'm not Hydra kid."

"I know…" Pietro murmured, fumbling with his hands distractedly. "You guys are nothing like Hydra…" He fell silent for a moment before giving a slight shrug, moving a hand to his forehead and running his fingers through his hair, smoothing white strands out his face. "Everything's so different here."

Clint looked at him thoughtfully. "That's what's really wrong, isn't it?"

Pietro sighed, nodding. "I don't understand half of what anyone's saying… I've got nothing, no money, no clothes, no food; I depend on your kindness for everything…" He shut his eyes, bracing his elbows against his knees and putting his head in his hands. "I don't belong here Clint."

"Where do you think you belong?" Clint asked gently, his voice compassionate.

Pietro shook his head. "I don't know… A drain? A ditch? Six feet under the ground in a wooden box?"

A hand rested to his shoulder and Clint pulled him back, sitting him up straight. "Listen, kid… You're powers, what you can do, it's incredible. And I'm telling you, you belong here, with people who get where you're coming from…"

"Do they?" Pietro asked, a slight twinge of accusation edging his voice. "Do any of you know where I'm coming from? Do you have any idea what's going on in other places while you're out protecting the important people?!" Clint blinked in surprise at his tone and Pietro shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just…" He sighed. "I just get angry, I don't know why… I just lose my temper so quickly."

Clint nodded, patting Pietro's knee. "I get it kid, you don't have to explain yourself to me…" He looked round the jet, seeing that the others had camped out in their own spots for the remainder of the journey. "You can get some sleep if you like… It'll be a few hours til we get there."

Pietro nodded, shifting himself down so he lay over a couple of seats. "Aren't you going to rest?" He asked Clint, who was showing no signs of even trying to get to sleep. "I heard you pacing half the night last night… Do you have trouble sleeping?"

Clint didn't reply straight away, eyes distant as he stared at the wall on the opposite side of the jet. "I'm okay." He murmured. "Sleep isn't really one of my big things…"

Pietro didn't press him, not wanting to intrude any memories that caused the archer sleepless nights. "Right…"

There was a moment of silence before Clint turned to him again, grey eyes fixing on blue. "And for the record... We all understand what it's like to be in a strange place…" His eyes drifted momentarily, glazed with memory. "We've all come from difficult backgrounds… So yeah, we're about the only people who'll ever know where you're coming from."

Pietro frowned, a spark of concern flashing through him. If they'd come from similar backgrounds as him then that means Clint must've had some horrible things done to him. "What about you…?" He asked quietly. "What happened to you?"

Clint shook his head. "It doesn't matter… If you really want to know-" He added as Pietro opened his mouth to speak again. "- I'll tell you after the mission. Now…" The archer reached a hand to Pietro, pushing his head down so it rested on the seat. "Get some sleep… We'll be there in a few hours."


	10. Chapter 10

Clint sat in silence, just watching Pietro sleep.

The young man was shuffling restlessly, his eyes shifting beneath his eyelids as if he was suffering from a particularly bad nightmare. A light sweat beaded over his pale skin. Hesitantly and as gently as possible, Clint rested a hand to his shoulder. He didn't keep it there for long, drawing back almost immediately.

He was so young, still just a child, too young to get involved in the kind of mess the avengers got themselves in.

A loud yell shot through the silence and the avengers were jolted awake. Clint leapt up, rushing to Bruce, who was hyperventilating badly, scrambling so he sat up against the side of the middle section of seats in the centre of the jet. Panic flashed through his eyes and, as Clint quickly knelt beside him, he could see a heavy coating of sweat sheening on the doctor's forehead.

"Banner, hey, Bruce, look at me." Clint ordered, trying to get through to him as his gaze flicked around rapidly. The archer could swear he saw a tinge of green in his irises and he carefully braced a hand to the side of Bruce's neck, drawing his eyes to his. "Bruce, it's me. It's Barton…"

Bruce let out a few choked gasps in between gulping in the air, obviously attempting to speak. He kept swallowing, almost nervously, and Clint could feel him shaking, shivering from the shock of his nightmare. Clint guessed he'd had a nightmare anyway. He knew the team well enough by now.

He also knew that Bruce was vulnerable at the best of times, so now he just looked like a complete wreck.

His hands shook as he grasped at Clint's chest, finding a hold on his suit. He needed something to hold onto to, something to anchor himself, so Clint didn't protest. Bruce shut his eyes, his teeth clenched together as he lowered his head, as if defeated.

"Just a dream." Clint murmured, half worried his words might seem patronising to the doctor. He pressed on. "It was just a nightmare Bruce, you're in the Quinjet and we're going on mission, you remember?"

Bruce swallowed again, nodding. His hands refused to slacken their hold on Clint's suit, his eyes still shut as if trying to block everything out. Clint was suddenly aware of him whispering under his breath and leant in a little closer to listen.

"Don't want to hurt anyone…" Bruce breathed the words, barely audible. "Please don't let me hurt anyone…"

"You haven't done anything Banner." Clint assured him, his voice etched with kindness. "You haven't hurt anyone, I promise."

"Have to stop me…" Bruce went on, shaking his head. "You have to stop me… If I lose control…"

Clint shook his head, moving the hand not laid to Bruce's neck to one of the doctor's wrists. "It won't come to that." He whispered, gently easing Banner's hand off of his suit. "You've got this under control, I know you have… You don't have to be afraid." Bruce swallowed, shutting his eyes as he blew out a long, calming breath. Clint cast him a reassuring smile. "You okay now?" The doctor nodded and Clint slowly got to his feet, giving a single nod.

Bruce opened and closed his mouth, obviously attempting to speak. No sound was uttered, however, and he simply blinked gratefully up at Clint, who inclined his head again in understanding.

The archer turned to make his way back to his seat. Bright, blue eyes stared back at him; Pietro was awake. His white hair was slightly tousled and he appeared to be a little panicked, his eyes wider than usual. Clint noticed a thin sheen of sweat had gathered on the kid's forehead. As Barton had guessed, Pietro had been having a nightmare.

"You alright kid?"

Pietro nodded, a little too quickly. "Yeah, I-I just… I thought I was somewhere else…" He mumbled the final few words, almost inaudibly, refusing to meet Clint's eyes.

Clint's gaze softened with sympathy but he didn't ask, understanding that Pietro would probably rather keep it to himself. He glanced out of the window, noting the ascending height of the sun, half hidden behind thick, white clouds.

"We'll be getting there soon." He informed, turning back to Pietro. The young man was pushing himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes through a yawn. "You could probably get another half hour if you want."

Pietro shook his head, still rubbing his eyes. "No, I think I slept long enough. Anyway, I should be ready."

Clint smirked slightly. "You're not fighting kid, I told you, you're too young."

"You might need my help." Pietro murmured, glancing up at him.

Clint grinned at the seriousness in his eyes, his face quickly falling as Pietro shook his head. "Hey, it'll be fine kid. We've done this loads of times." His eyes flicked to Pietro's hands, which he was nervously fidgeting on his lap. "What's up…?" He pressed on, frowning anxiously as the young man remained silent. "Come on Pietro, what's the matter?"

Pietro shut his eyes briefly, letting out a soft sigh. "Wanda, she…" He shook his head sadly and lowered his head. "It's not her fault. She can't reach my mind anymore; she thinks I'm dead so our connection is mostly broken. But…" Raising his head and opening his eyes, his gaze met Clint's, who was narrowing his eyes sympathetically. "You have to understand, it isn't her fault… I-I think she's done something… Something's wrong…"

"Kid, it's fine, okay?" Clint replied, his voice etched with kindness. "Once we've dealt with Ultron, we can go and look for your sister. She'll see that you're okay." He smiled slightly in order to reassure Pietro's anxious and dubious expression, putting a hand to his shoulder. "Everything'll work out, you'll see."

Pietro swallowed thickly. "She isn't a bad person… If you all go after her once Ultron's defeated…" He looked away uncomfortably. "I've seen what happens to criminals who cross you… I… I don't want her to get hurt."

Clint shook his head, squeezing Pietro's shoulder gently. "She's just a kid Pietro, like you- don't give me that look, you are- and kids make mistakes, okay? No one's going to hurt her, I promise."

Pietro didn't speak for the longest time, but when he did Clint was already prepared for what he was going to say. "I'm nineteen Clint. I'm not-"

"A child?" Clint guessed smugly. "Yeah, you are kid. And that's why-" The jet landed with a timely thump. "-you're going to stay here while the big boys and Nat sort out this mess Stark's got us into."

"You are too scared to call Natasha a child?" Pietro teased. Clint was so glad he'd managed to get the kid smiling and found himself unable to supress a chuckle.

"You bet I am. She's kick my ass halfway across the Atlantic if she heard me."

From the opposite bench, where the rest of the avengers were adjusting their suits, there was a suspicious call of "what's that Barton?"

"Nothing." Clint replied, a little too quickly as he got to his feet, slinging his bow across the torso.

Natasha narrowed her eyes mistrustfully and Pietro rested his hand against his mouth, attempting to casually hide a smile. Clint smirked down at him fondly, reaching down and ruffling his white hair.

"Stay in the jet, okay?"

Pietro nodded, grudgingly accepting and Clint turned to hurry after the others, calling parting words over his shoulder.

"I'll be on comms. Give me a shout if anything happens."

"Likewise." Pietro called back, watching as Clint caught up to the others and finding himself hoping that the archer came back safely.

Pietro wasn't sure what he'd do to the person responsible if Clint was hurt again. All he knew: it wouldn't end well.


	11. Chapter 11

The lights flickered on and Clint instinctively moved backwards, slipping behind an open door.

Nothing. God, this ship was freezing.

Then he heard Ultron speaking, shouting. "Don't compare me with Stark!"

He was here.

Clint peered out from behind the door, notching an arrow in the string of his bow as he continued to sneak along the corridor. He heard Ultron speaking again but didn't pay him any attention. He needed to get higher, he needed to see what was happening.

"Junior…" Stark's voice sounded, faking sadness. "You're gonna break your old man's heart."

"If I have to."

Shaking his head to mentally block out the voices, Clint gripped the arrow in his teeth, slinging his bow over his back as he reached up for a metal bar connected to a higher walkway. He pulled himself up, climbing the bars and rungs up to the platform.

Now it was a better view. Now he removed the arrow from his mouth, taking his bow back into his hands and slotting the arrow in. Now he could look down on the rest of the avengers, who were gathered in front of Ultron and… and…

"Shit…"

It was Wanda Maximoff. Pietro's sister.

She was older now than Clint had seen her in the picture when Pietro had hacked in Hydra. Her hair was tied up high into a ponytail, reaching down the length of her back, a few long, dark brown strands hung over her shoulders. She wore a black, leather jacket, and a knee-length, red dress.

She was pale, the pallor of her face accentuating her sharp cheekbones, that aspect of her appearance very similar to that of her brothers. At least two necklaces hanging down the exposed column of her throat and there were shadows around her eyes, black make-up enhancing the emotions glistening in her green irises. Rage, grief, a longing for revenge.

"This is funny? Mr Stark?" She asked, anger evident in her voice. She had the same accent as Pietro. "You are enjoying yourself, yes?"

"You're young." Steve joined the conversation now, stepping forward a little. "I don't think you understand-"

Ultron scoffed and Clint raised his bow, waiting for Stark to give a signal. "Captain America.. God's righteous man. Pretending you could live without a war."

"You can walk away." Steve continued to direct his words at Wanda. "You can still walk away from this."

"Oh, I will." She assured, nodding and sneering a little.

Clint bit his lower lip, frustrated at his position. He couldn't break cover, not for anything; Steve had ordered him to stay hidden. But it was Wanda- Pietro's sister! The one person Pietro wanted to keep safe was potentially in the most dangerous place she could be right now. Furthermore, she was on the wrong side of two extremely powerful teams. If Clint could just explain to her…

"Look, your name's Wanda, right?" Steve spoke up again. "Wanda Maximoff?" She eyed him curiously but didn't speak, green irises glinting with mistrust. "Please, just listen… I know you've suffered… but your brother, he-"

"Do not speak about my brother!" She hissed warningly, anger and grief battling in his eyes. "My brother wanted to make a better life for the people in our country. My brother died trying to make that happen…" Her voice trailed off briefly, but hardened again as she cast her eyes to Tony. "You bought about his death. Countless others were killed because of your weapons. You…" Her voice shook with rage and grief. "You murdered my brother."

A deathly silence hung in the air, so thick that it seemed like words could be drowned in it. Tony shook his head suddenly.

"No. I didn't." He muttered. "I thought you knew-"

"You killed him!" Wanda screamed at Tony. "You killed my brother!"

Her hands moved furiously, scarlet mist streaming from her fingers, and Tony was thrown backwards, his suit making a sharp clanging sound as it came into contact with the wall. Ultron set loose the metal copies of himself and a fierce battle broke out.

Clint fired arrow after arrow, taking out the metal men from above. The arms dealer's men swarmed from a lower floor, bullets flying through the air, ricocheting off the walls. Ducking down, Clint narrowly avoided a bullet to the head, sending an arrow down to the man who had almost claimed his life.

Banner's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Guys? - this a c-de gr-n?" followed by Pietro's, "does -at me- I'm -ode blue?"

Clint smirked a little, his expression quickly falling into a frown as he saw Wanda skirting along the corridor behind Thor. Her hands were positioned strangely, twisting them around each other slightly. Crimson smoke drifted from her fingers and she flicked them in the direction of Thor's temples. Wanda slunk away and Thor turned round before continuing as though nothing had happened.

Steve's voice echoed through the comms. "Thor, status."

"The girl tried to warp my mind." He growled gruffly. "Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay… Fortunately, I am mighty."

"I'm going to find her." Clint said, slinging his bow over his back.

"No, Clint." Steve sounded fearful. "Don't look for her. She's dangerous."

Clint leapt down from the walkway. "She's innocent. I won't see her hurt because of us. She's a kid- Pietro's sister- and she's a victim in this… I promised. I promised him I wouldn't let her get hurt."

"Clint wait, just let-"

There was a loud crash and the line went dead. Clint halted, glancing around anxiously for any sign of his teammates. "Steve?" He didn't get a reply. "Steve, what's going on?" Still only silence, Clint felt a spark of fear. "Is anyone on comms?"

He took his bow from over his chest, taking out an arrow and preparing to fire if he needed to. He needed to find his team. He needed to find Wanda. He had to stop her.

* * *

Pietro paced the length of the jet, trying to pretend he couldn't feel Bruce's eyes on him, watching his every movement.

"They should have answered." Pietro muttered. "I think they tried to but… but something's wrong."

"I'm sure they're fine." Bruce assured from where he sat on one of the seats bordering the side of the jet. "Please sit down, you're making me edgy."

Pietro didn't, but he did stop pacing, glancing to the closed door as a soft exploding noise sounded from the shipyard. He sped to the end of the jet, pressing the button to lower the ramp and looking out over the desolate landscape, looking out to the ship where he knew the avengers were fighting. Where Clint was fighting.

"Pietro..." Bruce warned quietly.

Pietro glanced back at him, growing desperate. "They're in danger, I know it. I have to go… I have to see if they're okay."

Bruce shook his head, getting to his feet. "No, Pietro. You need to stay in the jet. You aren't ready for the field. Clint wa-" He broke off, pressing his lips together hard, apparently regretting his words.

"What about Clint?" Pietro asked curiously, narrowing his eyes when he didn't get a reply. "Bruce…?"

The doctor sighed, lowering his gaze. "Clint wanted you to stay in the jet… He asked me to keep you here whatever happened." Pietro rolled his eyes, turning to leave but Bruce gripped his wrist, holding him back. "Pietro, he just wants you to be safe. He doesn't want to see you hurt."

"Then he shouldn't watch." Pietro muttered.

He forced his wrist out of Bruce's hand, putting on a burst of speed as he sprinted down the ramp. Using his power, he ran towards the ship, dust flying up at his heels, ignoring Bruce's yell.

"Pietro!"


	12. Chapter 12

Pietro crouched in front of a shocked Steve.

The captain was lying on his side, his back to the wall. Trembling uncontrollably, memory dived like minnows in his wide eyes, bright scarlet light swimming in his irises. _Wanda,_ Pietro thought to himself. _I have to find her before she does this to anyone else._ He lay his hand to Steve's head briefly before getting to his feet, looking around.

The ship was dark… silent.

A flicker of colour caught his eye and he looked up. On a walkway, on the level above Pietro, was Wanda. She circled her hands expertly, scarlet mist shrouding her fingers. She was stood behind Clint. The archer was obviously oblivious to the fact that the young woman was there.

"Wanda!" Pietro called.

His sister didn't react, too intent on her victim to hear her brother's shout. Clint was speaking into his earpiece, so he didn't hear either. Pietro sprinted forward, a blue blur, as Wanda raised her hands, preparing to flick them to Clint's temples. _Wanda, leave him alone! Please, leave him!_

He ran up the stairs and timed the jump with expert precision. Leaping in between his sister and Clint, Pietro seemed to see in slow motion. Wanda flicked her hands, her power taking over, not Clint's mind, but Pietro's.

Shock pulsing through him, he stood for a moment, his eyes locked with his sisters. Her eyes were wide and her lips formed his name but he couldn't hear her anymore. Scarlet pressed in from all sides, his hand twitched feebly, reaching for her, before he drew in a startled gasp and saw red.

* * *

Clint spun around just in time to catch Pietro as the young man collapsed backwards, falling into the archer's arms.

"Pietro!" He exclaimed, sinking to the ground to ease the kid's fall. "Oh my god, Pietro! Talk to me kid, can you hear me?" He took Pietro's face in his hands, looking into his scarlet eyes. "Come on, talk to me… Come on…"

"Pietro!"

Wanda collapsed to her knees beside Clint, taking her brother and pulling him from Clint's hold, cradling him in her arms. She sat stroking his head, smoothing white hair away from his eyes. Rocking back and forth a little, she gazed down at him in shock.

"Pietro, oh, Pietro…" She whispered, her eyes filled with tears, brimming with raw emotion. "My beautiful brother, oh, you're alive…" Tears fell down her cheeks as he didn't respond, not even blinking, and she let out a soft sob. "I'm sorry Pietro, I'm sorry."

Clint shifted himself forward slightly. "What have you done to him?"

He reached out a hand, touching it to Pietro's shoulder. Wanda threw her hand out and there was a flash of red. Clint hit the wall with a pained grunt, sliding down to the floor and sitting, briefly stunned. Wanda glared at him for a moment.

"Don't touch him." She hissed fiercely. "Don't."

She leant over her brother, her lips brushing his forehead, whispering words against his skin. Clint could barely hear her but he managed to make out her soft whispering and felt a sudden stab of sympathy for her.

"It's alright Pietro, I know, I know it hurts. I'm so sorry... I'll make it go away… I'll make it stop, I'll stop it hurting." She stroked his head lovingly, her eyes narrowing in pity. "I can't stay, I'm sorry.. I'll come back for you. I promise, I _will_ find you again."

Swallowing hard, she kissed Pietro's forehead and moved her hand to hover over his temple. Red mist gathered at her fingers and, with a twitch, she set her power streaming into her brother's head. Pietro flinched, his eyes remaining wide open, and Wanda hushed him softly, twisting her hand a little.

Pietro gasped in a deep, silent breath, his chest heaving upwards. The scarlet glow faded from his eyes, relaxing into the familiarly light shade of blue. His eyes fluttered shut, a contented sigh escaping his parted lips as he fell limp in his sister's arms.

Wanda sobbed, gently shifting him off of her lap and leaping to her feet. She turned and fled down the stairs, raising a hand to brush away tears as she went, long, brown hair flying out behind her.

"Wanda!" Clint called, jumping up and racing after her.

She didn't even turn around as she struck out a hand towards Clint, who was just reaching the top of the stairs while she leapt down the last one. A shield of red smoke erupted in front of the archer, throwing him backwards.

His head smacked against the wall and his vision washed with black as he fell to the ground beside Pietro. Ears ringing, he blinked furiously, fighting against the darkness pressing against his mind. He clenched his fist, hitting it against the floor. Pain meant consciousness. He needed to be conscious, he had to help the others, he had to help Pietro.

"Wake up Barton." He muttered to himself, clawing up onto his knees. "Come on, up your game. Just a hit, shake it off."

Vision slowly beginning to clear, Clint knelt for a moment. Something warm dripped down the side of his face, falling onto his eyelid, and he blinked it away. He'd hit his forehead pretty hard, dangerously close to his temple. He was pretty sure he was bleeding, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that Pietro hadn't so much as twitched since Wanda had left him.

Clint shifted closer, so he could kneel at Pietro's side, carefully touching his chest, flattening his hand against the young man's heart. It was beating steadily. He moved his hand down to Pietro's ribs, his hand moving to swipe at the warmth on his forehead as he leant over the kid, ear above his mouth. His chest was moving. His breathing was level.

"Talk to me kid.." Clint whispered, scanning Pietro's face for any signs that he could hear him. "Come on, please... She said she made you better, why won't you wake up?"

He didn't get a reply and, quite honestly, he hadn't been expecting one.

Sitting up, Clint looked down at his hand, calmly noting it was soaked with blood from his forehead. He wasn't blacking out yet, it was fine for now.

"I'll be back in a second." He promised Pietro, getting to his feet.

He glanced around. Wanda was nowhere to be seen. Hurrying to the railing of the level he was on, he gripped the bar and looked down.

He put a finger to his earpiece as he caught sight of Steve. "Maria. The others are down. I'm getting them out of the city for a bit… I'll send you a message when I'm back on comms."

Ignoring the dizziness threatening to blur his vision, he ran down the metal stairs, sprinting over to Steve and crouching beside him. Relief surged through him as Steve blinked up at him, delayed realisation flickering in his, thankfully blue, eyes.

"You okay Rogers?" Clint asked, keeping his voice calm.

Steve nodded a little, pushing his hands against the floor and struggling into a sitting position. "Fine- I'm fine." He murmured.

Clint helped him up and Steve leant heavily against the wall. He shut his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear whatever enchantment Wanda had set on him.

"Do you know where Natasha is?" Clint asked slowly.

He didn't get a response. Steve's gaze was fixed on the floor, a slight, confused frown on his pale face. Clint snapped his fingers in front of the soldier's eyes.

"Hey, look at me." He ordered. Steve quickly flicked his eyes back to Clint. "Natasha. Have you seen her?" When Steve shook his head, he nodded a little. "Okay… Okay, if you're feeling up to it then get back to the jet. If not, sit back down and I'll come and help you once I've found the others. Alright?"

Steve nodded, a little shakily, and Clint patted his shoulder briefly before turning round and running off.

"Natasha!" He shouted, looking around wildly.

"Over here." A deep voice sounded from up ahead.

Clint sprinted on, skidding to a stop at some stairs. Thor was sat on the metal step beside Natasha, his hand on her arm. She was staring into the distance, unresponsive as Clint crouched in front of her.

"Tasha." He whispered, touching a hand to her cheek.

"She won't reply." Thor muttered.

Clint stroked his hand down her cheek before turning to the Asgardian. "What about you? Are you okay?"

After a brief second of hesitation, Thor nodded. "Fine…" His eyes flicked up to Clint's forehead. "You're bleeding." The archer waved it off dismissively and Thor, though he didn't look convinced, didn't question him. "Has anyone else been.." He gestured to Natasha. "... possessed?"

Clint nodded. "Steve.. and Pietro. I don't know where Stark is… What exactly does she show you?"

Thor's face darkened, his eyes haunted. "Nightmares. She shows you your darkest fears…"

Clint swallowed uncomfortably. _This is the worst group of people to set that enchantment on. We've been through too much. And Pietro… Oh god, Pietro… What must he have seen?_

A muffled roar echoed through the air, seeming to vibrate the ground. Clint stood up, narrowing his eyes. A slight tremor shook the ground but was gone so quickly, Clint started to think he had imagined it.

"Natasha!" Tony's voice called through the earpiece. "I could really use a lullaby."

"That's not gonna happen for a while." Clint replied. "The whole team's down. Sorry, you got no backup here."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by muffled yells and crashes from Tony's end of the line. "I'm calling in Veronica." The communicator's cut off and Clint turned his attention back to Thor.

"Help her up." Clint ordered, gesturing to Natasha. "We need to get to the jet."

Thor did so, his hand to Natasha's shoulder as he helped her to walk. Clint ran ahead, back up a set of stairs to Pietro. The young man was exactly as he had left him, lying motionless, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling weakly as he breathed.

Crouching beside him, Clint gently tucked his hands beneath his limp form, lifting the kid in his arms. He was surprisingly light, heavier than Natasha, lighter than Steve, probably somewhere around Bruce's weight. Clint had carried all three while they had been unconscious in the past- not all at the same time, of course.

"Here kid, I got you." He murmured under his breath, cradling Pietro against his chest. "I got you now. I'll take you back to the jet, you're gonna be just fine."

* * *

Clint felt a hand touch his shoulder and looked round.

"Hey, you want to switch out?" Tony asked, looking down at him.

Clint shook his head dismissively. "No, I'm good. If you want to get some kip, now's a good time, 'cause there's still a few hours out."

"A few hours from where?"

Clint looked over his shoulder, his gaze fixing on Natasha before flicking down to Pietro. Natasha was sat on a seat at the side of the jet, hugging herself around the waist with her eyes set on the floor. On the floor beside the seats lay Pietro.

The young man was lying on his side, facing towards the centre of the room. A grey blanket covered him up to his shoulders. He'd clearly woken up while Clint had been preoccupied with flying and now his blue eyes were unfocused and misted, fixed on nothing.

Clint turned back, narrowing his eyes at the horizon.

"A safe house."


	13. Chapter 13

Clint landed the jet carefully in the field outside his farm.

The others got up as he opened the doors. He stood up, stretching his stiff muscles before walking over to Pietro and crouching down beside him. He had fallen asleep during the journey. Clint half wanted to let him sleep a little longer, but he knew the kid would rest better in the farm. Reaching out a hand, he gently shook Pietro's shoulder.

"Kid." He whispered. "Kid, wake up."

Pietro stirred, slowly blinking his eyes open with a slight yawn. He raised his head, his gaze immediately finding Clint. "Where are we?" He asked quietly, throwing the blanket off and pushing his torso up, rubbing his forehead sleepily.

"Somewhere safe." Clint answered, forcing his eyes not to fill with concern as he looked down at the kid. "Do you need any help?"

Pietro shook his head, heaving himself to his feet. "I can manage."

Clint hid his doubt and gave a small nod before leading the way out of the jet. The other avengers had waited for him outside, and were now all looking up at the farmhouse. Steve had an arm around Natasha's shoulders and she stared at the floor with slightly startled eyes. Clint looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing in pity as he saw Pietro. The young man was sat on the ramp which led into the jet. He wore a kind of sad, thoughtful expression. Clint walked over and crouched in front of him.

"Pietro." Clint muttered. Blue eyes met his. "Let me help."

The kid didn't protest as Clint carefully hauled him to his feet. He lifted one of Pietro's arms, slinging it around his neck.

The archer led the way up the stairs onto the porch. He pushed open the door, breathing in the familiar scents as he stepped into the house.

"Honey." Clint called as he led the team right, into the lounge. "I'm home."

Footsteps sounded from further in the house and a pregnant woman came into view. Her face brightened as she saw Clint and she rushed over to him. The archer carefully took Pietro's arm away, quickly asking if he was alright. Pietro nodded and Clint inclined his head before turning and walking over to meet the woman.

"Company." Clint gestured to the others. "Sorry I didn't call ahead."

"This is an agent of some kind." Tony muttered, his voice too quiet for Clint to hear.

The woman wrapped her arms around Clint's neck, standing on tiptoes to kiss him. He smiled, resting his forehead against hers for a second and Pietro briefly noted how relaxed he seemed in this place.

"Gentlemen." Clint turned back to the others, his arm around the woman's shoulders. "This is Laura."

"I know… most of your names." Laura said before any of them could introduce themselves. Clint whispered something to her, flashing a quick glance at Pietro, and she nodded. "I know _all_ of your names."

Loud, hurried footfalls echoed from another room. It sounded as though more people were coming down some stairs.

"Oh, incoming." Clint grinned.

Two children ran into the room, flinging themselves at Clint. "Dad!" The archer picked the youngest- a girl with long, plaited hair- up in his arms, ruffling the hair of a boy who hugged him round the waist.

"Hey buddy." He smiled crouching down so the boy could hug him properly.

"These are… smaller agents?" Tony guessed, watching the scene with a surprised expression.

Pietro couldn't help but smile as Clint hugged his children. He seemed, somehow, a little too carefree for this. The archer had struck Pietro as the kind of man who would have rented a one-bedroom apartment, lived off junk, answered the calls of the avengers when he felt like it, but clearly that wasn't the case. Clint had responsibility. It sounded strange now that Pietro thought about it.

A sharp throb rang through Pietro's head, startling him a little and causing him to instinctively raise a hand to his temple. Immediately there was movement and a hand gripped Pietro's shoulder. His eyes clouded.

"Kid?"

He looked up, surprised to find himself seated, sitting on a woven chair in the corner of the room. Blinking a little, he saw Clint was stood in front of him, staring down at the younger man with a slight frown on his face. At an absent wave of his hand, Laura gestured for the avengers to disperse past the kitchen as Clint sunk to one knee, his hand still grasping Pietro's shoulder.

"What happened?" Clint asked, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright?"

Pietro nodded, using the hand on his temple to tuck longer strands of white hair behind his ear. "Yes, I… I'm sorry, I don't know what that was."

Clint's eyes narrowed a little. "Your head hurts?"

"Not now."

Eyebrows furrowing, Pietro could almost see Clint's mind working as he thought. "What about your sister…? She.. used her powers on you. Could it be because of that?"

Pietro shook his head, even more confused than Clint looked. "No, that is gone… Something else… I-I think this has happened before. Once, when Hydra was testing us, they took Wanda away and told her to try and reach my mind… It does not work well over great distances. I started to feel strange, and my head hurt, so I had to sit down like just now…" He paused, frowning.

"And?" Clint prompted gently.

"And… I was in pain.." Pietro's eyes lost focus slightly as he recalled the memory. "Wanda's power was burning me, my head… Then… then I woke up." He slowly pinned his gaze back on Clint, who was staring at him in something close to pity. "Don't look at me like that.. I hate it when you look at me like that."

Clint stood, head tilted. "Like what?"

"Like you are feeling sorry for me… Poor boy, such a hard life, can't control his power... Let me tell you Clint, there are many in more difficult positions than me. Children freeze and starve to death on the streets of Sokovia and no one does anything about it. I wanted-" He cut himself off, closing his eyes as he clenched fists shook slightly. "I wanted to help everyone.. but I am here, and they are still there." He voice was full of misery and he leaned forward to rest his forehead in his hand. "I haven't changed a thing."

"Pietro." Clint said his name firmly, taking both of his shoulders in his hands. "Listen to me, you can't change the world in one second… Change takes years because people learn slowly. I don't pity you because you can't control your emotions. I don't pity you when you get angry at me or anyone else. I pity you because people have tried to own you your entire life and I don't think you know how to break away from that."

Pietro glanced up at him, lowering his eyes quickly. "I-I don't understand."

Clint looked at him kindly. "You're a good person, Pietro.. You want to help people, protect your sister, I get it.. That's why I look at you like that. Because you've been through so much hurt at such a young age and you still put others before yourself… That's why you're an avenger, not because I think you're some weapon Hydra turned you into, because you're completely selfless and you don't even know it."

Warmth pricked at Pietro's eyes, swallowing hard to force back the lump in his throat. He didn't know what he was feeling but it was making him uncomfortable. It was a nice kind of uncomfortable though; a warm kind. When Clint spoke, he felt like he mattered, like someone might actually notice if he disappeared one day.

The archer's eyes were uncharacteristically soft as he coaxed Pietro to his feet. "Come on.. I'll set up a room for you… You should get some sleep."

Pietro eyes were downcast as he followed Clint out of the room. "I'm sorry." He apologised quietly, finally speaking as they began their ascent up the stairs. "I lost my temper again, I didn't mean-"

"I know." Clint murmured, gaze still set ahead. "I told you before, I get it… You don't have to apologise to me, Pietro."

Dropping his head, Pietro trudged behind Clint, scuffing his heels a little. It made him feel like a teenager but he couldn't stop his instinctive actions. Clint was so patient, so understanding, barely batting an eye when Pietro snapped and lashed out at him.

He began to wonder if he deserved Clint's council.

* * *

"If they're sleeping here some of them are going to have to double up."

Pietro halted at the voice, coming to a stop and allowing his face to fall into a confused frown.

He was on his way out of the house; he had to go and find Wanda, he was certain she was in danger. Looking round, he saw the door to his left was ajar slightly.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he silently peered through the crack between the door and the wall. Clint was sat in a chair, his back to the door as he gazed out the window. Laura was stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders. The archer let out a quiet chuckle at her comment.

"That's not gonna sell." He grinned, pushing himself to his feet and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead as he moved out of Pietro's line of sight. "I've set up the room down the hall for Pietro… Sent him to get some rest."

"Okay, that's him sorted. We might have to put someone else in there too…" Laura turned to look back in the direction Clint had gone. "So the others… how about Nat and Dr Banner? How long has that been going on?"

"Has what?" Clint's voice asked.

She laughed. "You're so cute." She moved, presumably to Clint. "I'll explain when you're older, 'Hawkeye'."

"Oh…" Confusion was clear in the tone of her husband's voice. "Okay."

Pietro smiled before firmly shaking his head. There was no time for this. He needed to find Wanda. She didn't know how much of a psycho Ultron really was. He turned away, but Laura's next words made him stop.

"It's bad, right? Nat seems really shaken. So does… what was his name? Pietro."

Clint sighed. "Ultron has an ally… Pietro's sister. She carries a big damn stick and they took a serious hit."

"Who is he? Pietro? He looks a little too young to be getting involved in this kind of stuff." Laura murmured and she and Clint reappeared into Pietro's view. "He's, what… twenty?"

"Nineteen." Clint corrected her. "He's a good kid… took my hit for me." The archer's eyes glazed with memory for a heartbeat and he looked out the window in the yard. "He's been through tough times Laura…" He told her quietly. "We gotta find his sister… Someone should try talk some sense into her."

"And that someone's going to be you? You know I totally support your Avenging. I couldn't be prouder. But I see those guys, those... 'gods'…"

"You don't think they need me." Clint guessed, with a slight smile, glancing at her.

"I think they do." Laura corrected him seriously. "Which is a lot scarier." She added before giving the top of his head a quick kiss. "And I think Pietro needs you. You know… as a kind of father figure… They're a mess Clint."

"Yeah…" Barton murmured, turning his head to look out the window. "I guess they're my mess."

Pietro turned away, letting out a silent sigh. He couldn't stay here, he needed to find Wanda. But at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to walk away, to leave without saying a word. He supposed he should wait. Ultron was going to destroy the world, and Pietro wanted to be part of the team that was going to stop him or die trying.

There was movement from inside Barton's room and the door began to open. Pietro took off down the hall, sprinting down the stairs and out onto the porch, halting in a flash of blue smoke.

Sighing deeply, he braced his hands against the wooden bar, closing his eyes as he breathed in the cool air. It felt cleaner somehow, out here, so far away from everything else. He wondered if that was the purpose of it. To escape.

Something flashed in the edges of the darkness, causing his eyes to flit open. Completely without warning, a searing pain shot through his skull and he couldn't withhold a gasping cry of anguish. Pietro dropped to his knees, gripping his head as agony rushed through his mind. He dimly heard voices around him, felt a hand grip his shoulder.

"Pietro!"

Everything was fading, everything but the pain.

"… Pietro..!"

His hands moved, gripping the front of Steve's shirt- he believed it to be Steve at any rate. Strong, gentle hands touched his head, dropping down to lay to each side of his neck. He couldn't stop shivering. His mind was burning.

 _Wanda…_ He thought desperately, certain this was his sister's doing. _Wanda, stop… Please Wanda, stop it. Stop!_

"Pietro?" Steve whispered, stroking his head. "Pietro, speak to me. Talk to me Pietro, what's wrong?"

Pietro gasped, lips trembling dangerously. "I… I-I can't… I want… want Clint… Please.. need Clint."

"Tony, get Barton out here. Quickly."

Time barely passed before a hand gripped the back of Pietro's neck, a second braced to the side of his head.

"Kid?" Clint's voice was easily recognisable, even in this state. "Kid, what is it? Your sister?"

Pietro gave a stiff nod, shaking miserably. He didn't try to stop himself as the ground pulled him down, obliging to gravity as he promptly collapsed onto the ground. Clint's hand moved to hold the back of his head, stopping it from hitting the floor, easing him down gently.

Pietro twisted, writhing rigidly and Clint cupped the side of his jaw in his hand. Eyes flickering, Pietro felt Clint gently turning his head to force their eyes to meet.

"It's okay.." He whispered softly. "You're gonna be okay."

Lips parting, sound caught in Pietro's throat, so all that escaped his mouth was a quiet, choked gasp. His eyes rolled back. He distantly heard someone call his name before darkness washed over him and he was thrown out of consciousness.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N- This chapter's a little domestic so not much happens (sorry for the lack of excitement). I probably won't update beforehand so have a very merry Christmas and happy holidays to you all.**

* * *

Something wet dripped onto Pietro's cheek, causing his eyelids to twitch a little.

A damp, smooth surface swiped up the side of his jaw, feeling slightly rough against the stubble on his face. His jaw was assaulted again and again until his eyes finally fluttered open. Black, beady eyes stared down at him from behind a sandy muzzle.

The dog blinked down at him and, taking Pietro by surprise, licked his face, tongue swiping over his open mouth. Spluttering, Pietro put a hand in front of his face, pushing the dog's muzzle away but it just licked his hand vigorously. A familiar voice sounded from somewhere down by Pietro's feet.

"Lucky, quit it. How'd you get in here?"

Pietro felt the dog leap away and he was free to look around. He was in a small, square room with cream coloured walls. A small, wooden wardrobe stood in the far left corner, a desk in the other. Beside his bed, on the right, was a bedside table, on which sat a lamp and a glass of water. A grey duvet covered him to halfway up his chest.

Clint stood at the end of his bed, ushering a long haired, golden-furred dog from the room. After the dog's tail had disappeared out the door, Clint shut it firmly, turning back to Pietro.

"I'm sorry he woke you." He murmured, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed, beside Pietro. His face was a mask of worry, a hard set upon his jaw. "How do you feel?"

"I don't understand.." Pietro mumbled in confusion, pushing himself up. "What happened?"

Clint frowned at him. "You don't remember?"

Pietro shook his head, rubbing at his temple. "I-I can't think… I don't.." He shut his eyes, groaning softly as his hand moved to the back of his head. "Oww…" He moaned.

"Steady.." Clint soothed, setting his hands to Pietro's shoulders in order to steady him. "Steady, Pietro. Take it easy, okay..? You've had a rough couple days, you need rest." He gently threaded his fingers through Pietro's hair. "Does your head hurt a lot? I can get you some aspirin."

Pietro shook his head. "No.. it's not so bad now." He eyes clouded a little, distanced. "She won't try to reach me again… What if… What if Ultron does something to her..? She could die and I won't even know.."

Clint stroked his head, tracing his fingers down to the young man's jaw. "She's an asset at the moment. Ultron needs her alive; that thing will do everything he can to keep her safe…" His knuckles brushed against the side of Pietro's face. "Try not to think too much… You should sleep a little longer; I'll bring you some food later.. unless you're well enough to come downstairs for dinner."

Pietro nodded sleepily. "Yeah.. I-" He broke off with a yawn, then blinked his tired eyes up at Clint. "I should sleep."

Ruffling his hair fondly, Clint stood, glancing back to Pietro halfway to the door. "Try not to worry… We'll find her."

Pietro nodded, sinking back against the pillows and closing his eyes. "I know."

He heard the door close quietly, smiling softly to himself as he drifted back to the dark haze of sleep.

* * *

Gathering the avengers for dinner was not something Clint imagined doing on a Saturday night.

They had a completely expected visit from Fury, which made it even stranger. Lila sat between Thor and Natasha, seeming to be attempting to make herself seem taller to get a better look at the demi-god. Clint's place was empty for now, as was Laura's, Steve's, Pietro's and, oddly, Cooper's.

"Coop?" Clint called for his son, glancing up the stairs and finally, out onto the porch. "Hey, come on." He half-jogged down the steps to meet his son in the yard. "Dinner's out."

"Dad." His son seemed a little distressed as he ran to Clint. "Dad, I can't find Lucky. He's not in the house and he won't come when I call him."

Clint frowned. It wasn't like the retriever to run off. "Okay… Okay, don't worry. You go have dinner before your mum wonders where you are.. I'll check the house again and if I can't find him, we'll have a search after we've eaten, alright?"

Cooper nodded, relaxing a little. He gave his father a quick hug and ran off into the house.

Clint followed more slowly, scanning the yard not just for Lucky, but for anything that might endanger his family. Having all the avengers in one place might attract some unwanted attention- Clint had known this from the start. But he'd had to protect his friends, protect Pietro.

Once back in the house, Clint started the search upstairs, peering into every room before moving on. He frowned.

Pietro's door was ajar.

He felt himself smile because, god, if that dog had learnt to open doors he was in for a whole heap of trouble. Gently and quietly, he pushed the door open, his smile growing at the sight he was greeted with.

Pietro lay on his back, asleep, one arm hanging limply off the edge of the bed. His head was turned slightly to the side, eyes closed, his chest moving evenly. Clint could only tell his chest was moving because Lucky, who was stretched across Pietro's chest, was rising and falling a little as the young man breathed.

The dog lay in an almost protective stature, muzzle resting over Pietro's heart, paws crossed under his chin. Pietro shifted in his sleep, the hand that lay on the bed coming up to rest between Lucky's shoulder blades.

Smiling, Clint walked to the bed, gently placing his hand on Pietro forehead, stroking his head to rouse him. "Pietro.." He coaxed softly. "Pietro, come on…"

Pietro stirred with a sleepy mumble, his eyes fluttering drowsily. "Mmnh… wha?"

"Food." Clint explained briefly, patting Lucky's side. "Come on, Luck, off you get." Pietro grunted as the dog stood on his stomach, chuckling breathlessly. Clint smiled. "Looks like he's taken a shine to you."

"A what?" Pietro murmured as he sat himself up.

Clint had almost forgotten the kid was Sokovian. "Just means he likes you."

Pietro hummed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pushing himself up. "He is not so bad." He said, smiling fondly at Lucky as the dog weaved around his legs. He leaned down to pat the retriever's head. "You did not say you had a dog."

"Didn't come up in conversation I guess." Clint replied, then rested a hand to Pietro's shoulder. "Come on, Laura and Steve made dinner.. You need to eat something, you'll get sick if you don't."

Pietro nodded faintly, his eyes still heavy with sleep and Clint subconsciously brought his hand down to rest on Pietro's back, curling around to hold his waist in fear that the kid might fall over in his exhaustion. The young man glanced to him briefly, but didn't complain or object as Clint led him from the room.

"You know.." Pietro began quietly as they were making their way down the stairs. "You did not mention any of this… The other's did not know.. Why do you keep secrets from them?"

Clint sighed, glancing to him briefly. "Life can be difficult, kid.. and people can be asses… This kind of life, it's dangerous. Not just for me, but for people involved with my life. If any of our enemies were to find out, then my family would be at risk."

Pietro looked at him searchingly, then nodded a little. "I understand… You have to protect your family over everything."

"Are you thinking about your sister?"

But they were downstairs now, and once in ear-shot of the others, Pietro simply gave a polite smile and remained in silence. Clint blinked his sympathy, ensuring Pietro knew he understood, before leading him to the table.


	15. Chapter 15

"You're thinking too much, relax."

"I am relaxed, I'm perfectly relaxed."

Clint smirked, the very picture of sarcasm as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Sure, I believe you."

Frustrated, Pietro gripped the dart between his fingers, turning to face his target again. Drawing his hand back a little, he let it fly, watching discouraged as it thumped into the dart board on the black area between ten and fifteen.

He glanced back to Clint as the archer chuckled good-naturedly, pushing himself off the counter.

"Well I hit it, didn't I?" Pietro pointed out, gesturing to the board. "That must count for something."

"Only thing it counts for is you not sticking another dart in my wall." Clint countered, smiling fondly. "I'm not teaching a lesson on how points work in darts, we'll be here all night."

Pietro glanced through the large gap in the wall to the dining room, where the rest of the avengers were scattered around. Fury was cutting some kind of fruit up on a chopping board, subtly observing the team as they discussed their next battle plan.

Ultron wanted humans to evolve. That's what Banner had deduced from the robot's behaviour, he didn't want to exterminate people, he wanted them to evolve. This realisation had led to a discussion regarding Helen Cho, and now the team was set to leave at dawn tomorrow. If they were to bring peace, Ultron's plans had to be stopped, whatever the cost.

A hand closed over his and Pietro startled, thrown from his thoughts by Clint rearranging his fingers on the dart.

"You're holding it wrong." He murmured, smirking softly. "Don't grip it so hard, I told you. Relax."

"Shouldn't we be focusing on the mission?" Pietro asked, attempting Clint's advice and letting his dart hand relax a little.

Clint shrugged. "Until Cap's thought up a plan I doubt we'll gain much from joining the conversation.." He lifted Pietro's hand to eye level, moving behind him to act as his guide. "I think we can achieve a lot more by teaching you how to throw a dart."

"I am no good at this sport." Pietro complained, letting out a spurt of breathless laughter.

Clint shook his head. "I refuse to call this a sport. This is a pub game, kiddo." He tapped Pietro's ankle lightly as the younger man closed one eye. "Hey, both eyes open.. You'll see better."

"But I have to aim." Pietro insisted.

"Don't aim."

Pietro looked at him scathingly. "Don't aim? The archer says don't aim, how can he ever hit his target?""

"Your eye knows where it wants the dart to go." Clint persisted, positioning Pietro into the correct stance before drawing away. "Trust your eyes."

Pietro narrowed his eyes slightly, staring over at the board before drawing his hand back, pushing forward to let the dart fly. It sunk into the board with a satisfying thump, landing in the inner ring of twenty.

Clint's mouth slanted into an accomplished smile. "See, what'd I tell ya?"

"So that's a point to me?"

Clint ruffled his hair, causing Pietro to slink back exasperated. "Why does everything have to be competitive with you? Can you not just throw them?" He smirked as his eyes flicked to Pietro's hair, sticking out at odd angles as if he'd just awoken from a restless sleep. "You look like a bleached hedgehog."

Pietro made a face at him, scrunching his nose up as he reached to flatten his unruly hair, trying unsuccessfully to smooth down the irregularities.

"Think I'll call you Sonic." Clint joked good-naturedly. "You cool with that nickname?"

"Sonic?" Pietro repeated, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's a Sonic?"

Clint toyed with a dart, remembering Pietro's upbringing wouldn't have been as fortunate as Clint's own. Pietro wouldn't have nicked a Sega genesis in his teenage years solely for fun. He wouldn't have played it in a dingy little apartment, months overdue on rent, waiting for his brother to come back after weeks without news on his whereabouts.

"Clint..?"

Blinking rapidly, Clint repositioned his mind, drawing himself back into present day, glancing up to Pietro as the kid took an anxious step towards him.

Clint threw the dart to the board. "Nothing." He murmured, hearing it thump into the surface and knowing he'd hit a perfect bullseye. "Don't worry about it..." No way he was having a flashback 'cause of Sonic. He forced a smile as he moved to take the darts out the board. "Now, come on. I'm not giving up til you hit a bullseye."

* * *

"Are you all set? Ready to leave soon?"

"Ready, ready, and yeah, I got this; it's computers. I'm good at computers."

Pietro glanced up as a familiar pair of voices floated in from the hallway. Setting his steaming mug of hot chocolate aside, Pietro pushed his palms against the table, heaving himself out of his chair and speeding to the door, leaning against the wooden frame to watch a suit-clad Steve and casually dressed Tony exchange conversation.

"I'll take Clint and Natasha.." Steve informed, slinging his shield over his back. "We'll do what we can to stop Ultron while you head out to-"

"What about me?" Pietro asked, causing both men to turn around, surprised. He frowned, pushing himself off the doorframe. "I'm not staying here."

Tony glanced to Steve, smirking as he leaned back against the stair bannister. "He'll be better off with you, I'm not gonna need much, or any, leg work to sort my end.. But you guys, you're gonna need all the help you can get."

Steve hesitated for a moment, considering, before looking to Pietro, as if sizing him up. "You can handle the third line of attack. Meaning if Ultron's overpowered both me and Natasha, you get to step in.. While you're waiting for that, you're to stay in the jet with Clint. Take orders from him or me, okay?"

Pietro nodded earnestly. "Thanks, Steve." He turned to look back over his shoulder on his way back to the table. "I won't let you down."

* * *

"Steve."

The captain glanced around. He'd gone out to clear his head, to breathe the country air before they set off to yet another city. Behind him, Clint stood on the porch, leaning against his house. He beckoned Steve with a flick of his head, dropping his voice to a hushed tone as the soldier approached.

"You shouldn't let him fight." Clint muttered, glancing to Steve as he came up beside him. "He's still recovering from the shipyard."

Steve sighed heavily, quickly catching on that the archer was concerned for Pietro. "Isn't everyone?"

"He's too young, Steve." Clint insisted, something close to vulnerability flickering in his eyes for a heartbeat but it was gone so quickly Steve supposed he'd imagined it. "He's a kid. I don't care what he says, the simple fact is, he's not even twenty yet... We can't ask him to fight for us."

Steve leaned back, mirroring Clint's position. "We didn't ask. He said he was going to…" A slight smile altered his lips as he remembered the determination in Pietro's eyes when he had chastised them for arguing amongst themselves while the real enemy was still at large. "To be honest, I doubt we could stop him if we tried."

"That's not the point." Clint argued, his voice remaining carefully level. "He said he wanted to help get the sceptre back so no one else got hurt because of it. But Ultron isn't using it to experiment on children like Hydra did... Pietro didn't take your offer of an avenger because of that. He wants to prove that he's not a bad person. That he's not the weapon Hydra wanted him to be."

Steve was quiet for a moment, closing his eyes and watching images flash across the inside of his eyelids. Strands of dark hair falling over a gaunt face, whispers of forgotten words breathing in his ears, flashes of a metal arm, branded with the wrong symbol-

"Steve...?"

His eyes opened, lifting his head to glance at Clint, who gazed up at him anxiously. His mouth slanted into a forced smile.

"Isn't that why we're all fighting?" He pointed out gently, causing Clint to blink in surprise. "To prove that we can be more than what we've been programmed to be.."

Clint was quiet for a moment and when he spoke his voice was oddly quiet. "He's a child."

Steve's eyes narrowed sympathetically, noting that Clint was probably more attached to the kid than he thought. "I know you worry about him, but he's nineteen… He's old enough to know what he wants."

"Is he?" Clint muttered, glancing up at Steve. The soldier stared at him, confused. "The Hydra files have no proof of his age. It's even admitted that they guessed and even lied about the age of the kids they trained…"

Steve shook his head. "How do you..?"

"I did some research." Clint explained briefly. "There was a girl… Her name was Duška Rybar. Hydra files labelled her as 'deceased at fifteen' but she wasn't. She looked older but she was twelve, Steve." He lowered his gaze, grief glittering in his irises. "Twelve years old and they beat her to death in 'training'."

Steve felt a stab of sorrow for these children he'd never met. "But why… why would they lie on the files?"

Clint shrugged. "I'm guessing they had a minimum age they were allowed the train.. Maybe they lied so the kids could feel experienced but with that impressionable naivety still intact…" He raised his head, meeting Steve's eyes almost challengingly. "Look me in the eye and tell me you can send a kid- who could be as young as sixteen for all we know- into a war. Tell me you can protect him."

A tense silence stretched out between them.

Steve couldn't answer.


	16. Chapter 16

Clint cast a final glance back at his home, heavy-hearted as he forced a small smile, raising his hand in farewell.

Laura, who was stood on the porch with Cooper on her left and Lila on her right, gently returned the action, her expression soft with love and concern. With a little reluctance, Clint turned away, making his way up the ramp and into the jet. Tony glanced around from the pilot's seat, looking back to the front to press a button and bringing the ramp up.

The engines roared to life and Clint went to take a seat, frowning as he saw Pietro slumped against a seat in the corner, his eyes shut. Bruce was sat beside him, leaning forward to observe the young man. The doctor would be with them for a couple of hours. He had requested he be dropped off at one of his safe zones until Fury and Maria Hill came to pick him up in a separate jet.

Tony hadn't seen the sense in it, as Banner would just be sent back to the way they'd come- back to the tower. Clint guessed he wanted to be alone, to feel free for as long as he could.

Silently, Clint sat beside the doctor.

"Is he okay?" He whispered anxiously, gesturing to Maximoff.

Bruce nodded, eyes narrowed at Pietro before turning to face Clint. "He's fine. He's just sleeping." His eyes shone suddenly, his inner scientist clearly ecstatic. "His metabolism's like nothing I've ever seen.. The doctors who treated him when he first came to us allowed me to see the results of the tests… His metabolism's even higher than Steve's, so it would make sense that he would have to sleep and eat a lot."

Clint blinked fondly at Pietro as he muttered something in his sleep, shifting and slumping to the side so his head rested on Bruce's shoulder. The doctor startled so violently that Pietro's eyes fluttered, mumbling irritation before lapsing into slumber once again.

Bruce remained stiff and clearly uncomfortable, and Clint smiled kindly. "Here, I'll take him. You go in my seat."

The archer eased a hand beneath the side of Pietro's head, supporting his sleeping form while Bruce shifted over to the seat along. Clint sat in Bruce's seat, gently lowering Pietro's head onto his shoulder. He stroked loose strands of white hair back from Pietro face with his fingers, tucking them behind the kid's ear.

"How old do you suppose he is?" Clint murmured, unable to banish the idea of Pietro's age from his head.

Bruce shrugged. "I assumed eighteen… But it.. it feels like he's younger, doesn't it?"

Clint frowned, glancing to him. "Why'd you say that?"

"The way he acts…" Bruce explained quietly, his eyes set on Pietro's peaceful face. "He gets confused at certain words and things, like he doesn't know what they are.. I suppose he doesn't, being locked up in a Hydra lab for so long. It's child-like, in a way... He eats with his hands, but it's odd- delicate- like he's been doing it all his life; like he doesn't know what cutlery is."

Clint's mouth slanted into a slight smile. "I suppose he doesn't… Hey.." He mumbled quietly as Pietro twitched violently. His eyes moved restlessly beneath closed eyelids and Clint gently gripped his shoulder, shaking him a little. "Kid…"

There was a rush of movement, a flash of blue and Clint's back hit the ground, hard. A hand was immediately on his throat, squeezing tightly and he choked in shock, his eyes flitting up and across Pietro's face. The young man's jaw was clenched, blue irises alight with fury.

"Nesiahaj na mňa."

The words were foreign but there was no mistaking the threatening nature behind them. Pietro's voice was a growl.

Clint's throat convulsed weakly, lips parting to try and get through to the kid, but a horrified expression suddenly twisted Pietro's features. His hand snatched away from Clint's neck and the archer couldn't help but roll to his side, coughing hoarsely and drawing in slightly shaky breaths.

"Clint!" Bruce was at his side in an instant. "Clint, are you okay?"

"Fine." Clint choked, forcing his voice to calm as he sat up. "I'm fine…"

He glanced round to see his attacker curled in the corner, his knees draw up to his chest, irises glazed as he stared at nothing. Clint stood to cautiously make his way over, kneeling beside the young man.

"Kid…" He whispered softly, reaching up to touch Pietro's face.

Pietro immediately lashed out at the slightest contact and Clint struggled with him for a moment before catching hold of both his wrists.

"Hey, hey!" He laced a dash of authority into his voice, succeeding in getting through to the kid almost straight away as Pietro stopped thrashing, his eyes scanning Clint's face. "Hey, look, it's me… It's me, it was just a dream. You were dreaming, Pietro. No one's going to hurt you here."

"I'm sorry." Pietro breathed the words, swallowing thickly. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I know." Clint cut him off gently. "I know, Pietro. It's okay."

Pietro shook his head. "No, it's not. It's not okay, I…" His voice trailed off, a hand drifting to his shoulder, a curling round to his back. Throat convulsing, he swallowed uncomfortably and when he spoke, he glanced up at Clint, his eyes so young. "I didn't want it to happen again, but it always does. I was scared. I… I didn't want them to touch me."

Clint's eyes narrowed, a hand reaching up to smooth across Pietro's hand, still over his shoulder. "You were dreaming about when you were branded?" Pietro nodded, looking down, almost as if he was ashamed. Clint blinked his sympathy. "Can I see?"

The look Pietro gave him was so raw and vulnerable, that Clint was beyond surprised when Pietro silently stripped off his sports shirt, dropping it onto the floor. As Clint was inspecting the mark of white skin, an upwards facing crescent moon with a small circle in the gap, Bruce crouched in front of Pietro, quickly moving to his knees as he seemed to be staring at Pietro's scarred torso.

"Bruce..." Clint chided, becoming aware that Pietro was shrinking against him a little, clearly uncomfortable at the prospect of his scars. "Really?"

"No, no it's not that." Bruce waved him off, raising a hand to Pietro's arm, pausing before he touched. "I'm sorry. May I?"

Pietro was quiet but nodded his acceptance and Bruce gently placed a hand to his upper arm. His hand traced Pietro's torso, feeling the hard muscles across his shoulders and in his upper back. Pietro watched him with a frown as the doctor moved down to his abdomen, where there was a contrast of muscle and slightly protruding ribs.

"Curious…" Bruce muttered under his breath.

"What's curious?" Clint asked absently, gently touching the brand on Pietro's back. "Does that hurt?"

Pietro shook his head.

"His stomach." Bruce continued, his eyes flitting over Pietro's abdomen. "Have you seen his stomach? How can you be so toned but half-starving…?"

Clint frowned and Pietro shifted uncomfortably. "Hydra didn't feed us much in their lab and it was just bread and rice and water… Always the same: two meals every day."

"And you were having trouble controlling your power with Hydra, correct?"

Pietro blinked in confusion. "Yes but usually it was more a case of getting it to work."

Bruce smiled, ignoring the confused look Clint and Pietro exchanged. "Your metabolism is due to your power. High metabolism means you need to eat and sleep more than the average person. Hydra fed you bread and rice, probably minimal amounts." The doctor glanced up at Clint and Pietro. "Do you see?"

Clint nodded, opened his mouth and shook his head. "Uh, no, what am I seeing?"

"The reason why he couldn't control his power in the lab!" Bruce exclaimed. "It's because they weren't feeding him properly." He addressed Pietro now, eyes shining. "Your power needs a lot of energy in order to work, energy generally comes from food and sleep. Since you've been with us, you- or rather your body- had built up the muscle in you abdomen because you've been eating properly."

Pietro frowned, obviously trying very hard to understand what Bruce was saying. "So my body builds muscles… because I eat?"

"No- well, not exactly." Bruce rubbed the side of his jaw. "It's pretty scientific I guess."

"Give us the simple version." Clint muttered.

Bruce glanced down Pietro's body, eyes flitting back to his face just a quickly. "You need to eat.. and sleep. You need to have enough energy if you want your power to work."

"So…" Clint began, his jaw clenching, eyes narrowing. "Those Hydra bastards beat him for not being able to use his power, when it was their own damn fault for starving him half to death. That's what you're saying."

Pietro looked to him, his eyes soft. "Clint, it's okay."

"No, it bloody isn't." Clint countered, frowning. "Don't stand up for them. They beat you, starved you, locked you in the same room for days on end, only letting you out into another room so they could hit you more and call it training! You think that's okay?"

Pietro shifted uncomfortably. "No, but it didn't happen to you. So… So why are you angry?"

"I'm angry on your behalf."

"But I'm not angry anymore."

There was a stunned silence, during which Clint simply stared at him with disbelief. When he spoke it was hesitant, like he was unsure whether Pietro was in his right mind. "You're not… angry…? You're totally fine with those assholes treating you like… like a thing- an object. That's cool with you?"

Pietro blinked at him levelly. "Clint, I was locked in that lab for five years.. I thought I was going to die in there, or, even worse, be stuck there for the rest of my life. I thought I'd never see the sky again and I missed it so much it made me sick… And then I wasn't there anymore. I was… I was free…" He paused briefly, taking a deep breath. "I _was_ angry. But then you saved me and you showed me the sky… How can I stay angry after that?"

Clint stared at him for so long, Pietro began to frown. Bruce glanced to the archer, eyes narrowed in concern. Then, completely without warning, Clint shot forward, wrapping his arms around Pietro's shoulders and drawing a startled exclamation from the young man.

His eyes were wide as his irises flitted to Bruce questioningly, and the doctor, though shocked, simply gave a small, sympathetic smile. Pietro didn't understand, but Bruce did. He'd come to know Clint quite well over the past couple of years, with the archer coming and going through the tower, usually arriving in need of patching up after a hectic mission. Despite the rough exterior, Bruce had come to understand he was soft at heart.

"You young, selfless, brave idiot…" Clint muttered, releasing Pietro from the hug and moving a hand to swipe loose strands of hair from Pietro's face, his actions hurried. "Stop being so… so you… If anything happens to you…"

"I'm okay." Pietro assured him softly, bringing a hand up to take Clint's wrist, gently forcing the archer's hand down. "Nothing's going to happen to me; I'm okay."

Clint glanced away, flushed as he subtly cleared his throat. "You should sleep… Got a while to go before we get to Seoul."

He didn't wait for a reply, abruptly getting to his feet to walk over to Tony, briefly checking the coms for messages. Pietro and Bruce exchanged a glance, and the latter smiled softly.

"He's right, you should get some rest." Bruce too stood, dropping his voice for only Pietro's ears. "I'll make sure he's alright."

The young man nodded, climbing back onto his seat and Bruce turned to stand beside Clint. He gently led the archer to the side, scanning his face closely as he lowered his gaze, refusing to meet Bruce's inquiring eyes.

"What's going on, Barton?"

Clint's chest expanded briefly, letting out a long, slow sigh. "I've lost a lot of people over the years." His eyes were distant, staring to the side. "Good people…" He glanced back to Pietro, curled up over a row of seats. "Not him, Bruce; never him… He's a child, I… I have to protect him."

Bruce was quiet for a moment. "He's not your son, Clint… You don't owe him anything."

Clint sighed heavily. "I know…" He cast a small smile in the doctor's direction. "But who else is there to make sure he doesn't do something stupid?"

A sense of dread suddenly settled in Bruce's stomach and, although he couldn't place it, he reached up to grip Clint's shoulder. "If anything happens to him, you can't blame yourself… The team needs you, Clint. You can't fight and babysit… He's old enough to look after himself."

Something flashed in Clint's eyes and Bruce drew back slightly, wondering if he's gone too far. He'd read Clint's file and a brief pulse of fear flickered through him. But the archer's gaze was just sad as he looked across to Pietro, his eyes soft with hints of past grief edging his irises.

"He shouldn't be here… He's too young to get mixed up in this. I don't want-" He cut himself off.

Bruce narrowed his eyes searchingly. "What is it?"

"It's just…" Clint blinked as if banishing an unpleasant memory. "He reminds me of myself… I was so determined to prove myself that I didn't care about what happened to me." He swallowed thickly. "My past made me a weapon, and that's what I was… That's what Fury saw in me, so he used me like a handgun, used me like all his other agents."

Bruce nodded, recalling Clint's agent history. "But you wanted more… You wanted to prove you were more than what your criminal past had made you… I see why you relate to Pietro."

Clint clenched his jaw. "I can't watch him turn into me… I lost my childhood. I lost everything and I had nothing until I recruited Natasha into shield. Then there were missions like Budapest and finally the incident in New York made us avengers. I had a team, people I felt I could trust with my life, but…" He glanced to Pietro again. "I don't want him to be like me. The lives we lead are dangerous; people get hurt."

Bruce followed his gaze, a stab of regret hitting his chest. "He can't be normal, Clint, not after what Hydra's done to him… This is the only place he'll be safe- with us."

Clint sighed. "Then I'll try to protect him… He didn't choose this, but if he's stuck with this life then I'll die for him to keep living it."

* * *

 **Translation: Nesiahaj na mňa = Do not touch me**


	17. Chapter 17

Pietro's eyes opened and he blinked a few times to clear his hazy vision.

A surge of energy hit him suddenly and he sat up, rubbing his forehead, threading his fingers haphazardly through his hair. Bouncing on his heels, he tried to calm himself properly, jumping his knees up and down shakily.

"You alright, kid?"

He looked to his right, lips curving slightly as he saw Clint was sat a couple of seats apart from him. "Fine." Pietro replied promptly. "Just kinda restless. How long did I sleep?"

Clint shrugged. "A couple hours." He cast a brief glance to the front of the jet. "We should be there soon, I guess Steve's gonna give you a debrief… You were asleep when he came over the first time."

Pietro frowned, dangerously close to pouting. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You needed your rest." Clint pointed out, his voice somewhat indifferent but his eyes were kind. "Bruce told you, remember? You need to have enough energy for your power to work. Did you eat anything before we set off?"

Pietro's lips parted to reply, but he was saved from having to answer by Steve, whom he noticed approaching from across the jet. He stopped in front of Pietro for a moment, looking down at him searchingly before sitting at his side, obscuring Clint from his view.

"Kid, you know what we're up against, right?" His voice was oddly gentle for a man of his stature. Pietro had noticed that the first time they had met.

He nodded, smirking and he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Metal robot Stark was messing with is trying to destroy the Avengers, yes?"

"Not just any metal, Pietro." Steve corrected, the nature of his words etched with importance so Pietro decided he'd better actually force his short attention-span to focus. "Vibranium is the strongest metal on Earth. It's near indestructible meaning you can't break him as easily as you broke Stark's corrupt suits… You need to remember how dangerous he is, Pietro."

Pietro clenched his jaw. "My sister is with him… I don't care how dangerous it is, if she's at risk I'll take on Ultron myself-"

"No-" Steve gripped his shoulder. "- Pietro, you need to understand. This is serious… Your sister won't be hurt. I promise, we'll do everything we can to protect her but you can't put yourself in danger like that." Pietro scoffed, turning away but Steve pulled him back to face him. "Hey. I can't let you out there knowing you're going to be so flippant with your life.. Keep yourself safe, Pietro. Promise me."

Pietro held his gaze for several seconds, his eyes drifting down after a while and he nodded. "Okay… Okay, I promise."

Steve released his shoulder, moving for a platonic grip to the side of Pietro's neck, smiling briefly before lowering his hand to his lap. "Thank you…"

He glanced over to where Clint was taking over control of the jet from Natasha while the flame-haired agent moved to check her equipment. There was a determined light in Steve's eyes when he turned back to Pietro, one that the young man had grown accustomed to when the avengers were speaking of a mission.

"I'll just give you a brief run-through of the plan." Steve said, leaning forward on his elbows slightly. "You're handling the third line of attack, meaning if Ultron's got me in a tight spot and Natasha's unavailable to help, you can step in. You listen to Clint, okay? If he doesn't think it's worth the risk, you don't take action. Do you understand?"

Pietro nodded distractedly, trying to pretend his mind wasn't elsewhere, wandering back to his sister and Ultron and Clint. Would the archer let him go to help Wanda? Pietro didn't want to fight him but if he refused when she was in serious danger, what other choice did he have?

Perhaps Wanda wouldn't be there at all and in that case all Pietro had to worry about was a psychotic, power-hungry, vibranium robot that had a serious grudge against a group of heroic misfits. A robot with serious empathy issues- Stark created it so Pietro wasn't surprised on that account- and had possession of an object with almost unlimited, unknown power. And Pietro was going to fight him unarmed.

How badly could it go?

* * *

Steve slid out of the ramp, the capabilities of his shield meaning he didn't need the jet to land. Once he had engaged with Ultron, Natasha followed in quick succession, leaving Pietro alone in the jet with Clint.

As much as Pietro hated waiting, waiting on order was even more frustrating. He wasn't designed for waiting, he was built to be a weapon of speed, built to withstand the power surging through his veins, built to take out enemies without them ever seeing him coming.

"Don't sulk."

Clint's voice broke into his thoughts and he glanced up from his seat in the central section of the jet. The archer wasn't even looking at him.

"I'm not sulking." Pietro insisted, frowning. "How can you even-"

"I can hear you stifling sighs." Clint retorted, but there was no sharpness to it; his voice was kind. "Be patient, kid. Don't get angry, but Steve and Nat can probably handle Ultron."

Pietro heaved himself to his feet, walking unsteadily to stand behind the pilot's seat. "I wasn't sighing and I'm not angry… I just.. I can't be like you, sitting here watching from above. I need to be down there, I need to be moving, I need-"

"-to sit down." Clint finished, his eyes set on the road beneath them. "Looks like we're gonna have some trouble."

Pietro followed his gaze to see Steve being flung across the roof of the truck, hanging on by his fingertips before he and Ultron disappeared from sight beneath an overpass. Gritting his teeth, Pietro felt a wave of annoyance that he wasn't down there to help. The Captain clearly needed assistance.

The overpass quickly neared its end and Pietro glanced to the back of the jet, looking back to Clint just as quickly. "I'm going to help, open the door."

Barton turned to him briefly. "Unless you want to break your neck, I suggest you sit down."

"Clint, can you draw out the guards?" Natasha's voice buzzed through the coms.

"Let's find out." Clint replied levelly. "Pietro, sit down!"

Clint turned the jet sharply and Pietro stumbled back, having to grab onto the bars above the seats at the side of the jet to keep himself standing. The noise of hundreds of bullets firing from the Quinjet guns slammed against Pietro's senses and he shut his eyes. He hated that sound.

Through the front window, Pietro could see two Ultron copies break away from the truck and come zooming towards the jet. He scrambled into a seat, clipping the belt just in time. The jet span round, flying up steeply at an almost vertical angle. Clint flashed a glance back at Pietro, checking he was safe before turning his attention back to driving.

"Hold on kid!" He called, turning the wheel sharply.

The jet rotated at a mind blowing speed. Pietro gripped the edges of the seat, squeezing his eyes shut as his head span. The next few minutes were a blur and though he was certain Clint was speaking to him, he couldn't reply in fear of biting his own tongue from the force of the jet's movements.

Clint's skilled flying eventually managed to shake the copies off and the jet levelled out before Clint turned into a smooth nosedive. "They're heading back towards you." He informed down the comms. "So whatever you're gonna do, do it now."

Pietro prised his eyes open, unaware they had closed, in time to see the archer glancing back at him.

"You alright, kid?"

Pietro nodded, even though his insides felt like they had been scrambled. "Mhm," was all he managed to reply with.

Clint's eyes narrowed briefly, pity sparking his gaze before he turned back to face the front. "I know, it's a little overwhelming the first time you experience some crazy jet flying… Stay in your seat, I'll balance out when I can. Put your head down between your knees if you're dizzy."

Ignoring his advice, Pietro dropped his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. No matter how dizzy he was feeling, he'd be damned if anyone saw weakness in him, even for a second. He had enough mentally, he wouldn't show physical weakness in addition to all his faults.

As soon as the jet levelled out, he clicked off the belt and stood, making his way to Clint.

"Can you land?" He asked, glancing out the front window.

Clint shook his head. "Not here. We'd be in the middle of a road, Pietro. I can't exactly leave the jet on a parking meter."

Pietro sighed heavily. "Then don't land, just get close to the ground and I can jump out. Not you, we need you up here so you can see everything."

"Kid, you could break your legs trying to jump out of this thing…" Clint pointed out. "Steve said you weren't to go out there unless he called for backup."

"I won't break my legs, I can use my power."

Clint sighed. "Pietro…"

"If I'm going fast enough, I should just keep running when I hit the ground, no?"

"I don't think that's how it works kid." Clint replied, frowning anxiously.

Pietro sped to the other side of the jet, readying himself near the ramp, a sign to Clint that he wouldn't give this up. "You'd better try and get closer to the ground then." He raised his voice over the sudden noises from below- the screeching of cars and firing of guns. Clint cast a worried glance back at him and Pietro forced a smile. "It'll be fine. Don't worry."

Clint looked back to driving and Pietro briefly noted the archer was doing as he had asked. He was lowering the jet closer to the road and, as they neared, he leaned forward to tap at the console and the back of the jet opened down into the runoff of the ramp.

Pietro took a few steps back towards Clint, wanting to have a bit of a run up. As he backed against the pilot's seat, Clint gripped a hand around his wrist and Pietro glanced round in surprise.

"Please be careful." The archer murmured.

Pietro absently patted the older man's knuckles. "You know me." He replied gently, slipping his hand out of Clint grasp and setting his gaze once more on the lowered ramp. He smirked slightly. "When am I ever careful?"

Starting with a slight jump, he sprinted to the ramp, running straight out the jet and hitting the road. He stumbled clumsily but managed to keep up the speed and quickly regained his balance. Zooming down the road, relishing the feeling of the wind streaming through his white hair, Pietro heard Clint's voice over the earpiece.

"You get down alright kid?" He asked as Pietro skidded to a halt in the centre of the road, stopping on the lines separating the lanes.

"Sure did, Hawk." He replied, inspiring a short breath of laughter from the archer. It might have been relief but Pietro was too hyped to process that right now. "Just point me in the direction I should be running."

"I think Cap's having a bit of trouble on the train." Clint answered and Pietro looked up to see the Quinjet moving through the air towards him. "Keep heading down this road, take the third left then the first left and you should get to the train track." Pietro had already zoomed off, blue trails of mist quivering in the air behind him as he went. "Head down the track. Don't run into the train, it's coming up to a corner. If you run beside it, the same way it's heading, you should be able to jump on."

"Roger that, Barton." Pietro panted a little, already reaching the train.

He skidded to a halt, zooming back in the same direction the train was taking. He had to slow down a little, controlling his speed in order to get into a safe place to hop onto the train. Dimly, he noticed people on the vehicle were staring at him, open-mouthed.

Bracing himself, he raced forward, leaping up and slamming himself against the train. The door- thankfully they weren't the best design in this place- broke under his weight and before he knew it, he was lying, sprawled on the train floor, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

Someone was shaking him, two small hands gripping his shoulders.

"Il-eona, il-eona!"

Pietro's eyes fluttered open, blinking drowsily. A little girl leant over him, dark hair falling in strands around her anxious face. She was talking to him in Korean, complete nonsense to Pietro, but he knew one thing. This little girl had shaken him back to consciousness. She'd given him strength, something to fight for.

He pushed himself up into a rough sitting position, raising a hand to his forehead. The girl watched him carefully, her emerald eyes narrowed in concern. She mumbled something that sounded like a question and Pietro forced a slight smile, resting a gentle hand to her shoulder.

"Ďakujem." He murmured, instinctively slipping into his native tongue due to the change in the surrounding language.

Getting to his feet, he helped the girl up, leading her back to her mother, who grasped her daughter close, shrinking away from Pietro with a look of terror on her face. Pietro's lips curved in a sad smile. He should be used to fear by now.

But he had a chance with the Avengers. He could change what the world thought of him. He could save these people from Ultron's fury.

Putting on a burst of speed, he rushed past startled civilians, keeping that thought in mind as he ran to find Steve.

* * *

 **Korean Translation: Il-eona (일어나) - Wake up**

 **Slovak Translation: Ďakujem - Thank you**


	18. Chapter 18

When Pietro found him, Steve was in trouble.

Ultron threw the Captain against the train wall. Steve blocked a swing of his metal fist with his shield, the other fist landing to his jaw.

Pietro gave an enraged yell, shooting forward, teeth gritted as his shoulder made contact, smashing into Ultron and forcing the robot away from Steve. He skidded round for another attack but Ultron whipped an arm up, aiming a sharp smack to Pietro's face and the young man stumbled, clutching his cheek.

A cold hand met his throat and Pietro gave a startled choke. His back slammed against the train, his feet lifted from the floor as Ultron's grip tightened around his neck.

"You're interesting.." He muttered in that scratched, metallic voice. "Interesting boy... Heh.." He remained oblivious to Pietro's struggles as the young avenger fought to heave air past the cold fingers. "You should have joined me.. You could have kept your sister safe... But in order for me to manipulate her any further, I think you need to die.. I won't harm her, don't worry. I need her power untouched-"

A sharp clang split through Pietro's ears, Steve's shield embedding in Ultron's head, and he was thrown backwards. His head hit the wall and he slid to the floor of the train, coughing weakly, a hand clutched to his throat as he fought for breath.

He forced himself to regain control of his breathing, scrambling up to run at Ultron, who seemed to be preparing to throw Steve through the train window. Leaping at the sentient being, Pietro gripped the metal shoulder, forcing his fingers into a gap between his arm and torso. Surprising everyone it seemed, Pietro used his power to rip the arm off and it feel to the floor with a crash.

Sparks flew and Ultron growled in rage, tossing Cap aside. He slammed his remaining hand to Pietro's throat. The young man choked but was rendered powerless to stop him as Ultron forced his way out of the train, flying diagonally up above the city, coming to a steady halt so far up that the entire city stretched out beneath them. Pietro was torn between trying to force the metal fingers from blocking his throat and the fear of falling to certain death.

"I can't kill you." Ultron hissed, almost as if that was the only thing he wanted from life and regretful that he couldn't accomplish that yet. "Not yet, you have proved to be a very useful factor in manipulating your sister… You seem to have an unusually strong connection, even for twins. It must be due to the death of your dear parents, your stolen powers… You are a weapon, Pietro. Your sister is a weapon."

Pietro gave a choked gulp, desperately trying to breathe and to voice his hatred for this thing. It had always been personal but Wanda… Wanda was Pietro's entire life. Without her, he didn't see a reason for him to continue with his existence. If Ultron hurt her…

"Stop squirming." Ultron ordered, tightening his grip around Pietro's neck and shaking him slightly. ""You should have passed out by now… Humans are so fragile, even the mutated ones… Maybe I'm not applying enough pressure."

Fingers crushed Pietro's windpipe. Darkness crowded his eyes, lips flaring as he fought to heave in air past Ultron's icy grasp. His lungs wouldn't function, deprived of oxygen for too long for Pietro to cling onto consciousness. The pressure lifted from his throat as he slipped from Ultron's hand but it was too late.

Black smothered Pietro's senses, wind rushing past his ears as he was left free-falling to the earth.

* * *

"Steve, you seen Nat?"

Clint's mind was in turmoil.

As of ten minutes ago, Pietro was now officially on the field, gods knows if he was safe. Natasha had been here, she was right here, holding onto the back of the cradle as it slammed into the jet. She hadn't just disappeared, something must have happened. Steve's reply came quickly enough, but it wasn't what Clint had wanted to hear.

"If you have the package, get it to Stark! Go!"

"Do you have eyes on Nat?"

"Go!"

Panic enveloped Clint's mind and he slammed his hands down on the controls in frustration, whispering to himself. "Damn it!"

He couldn't leave, of course he couldn't. Natasha might be out of action- Clint was quietly sorry for Ultron's naivety, as he guessed he had taken her; that bastard wouldn't break her, no one would- but he still had responsibilities. He still had Pietro.

In his mind, there was no choice to make. He would not leave without Pietro, he didn't care what Cap said.

Slowly, he wiped a hand down his face. Too deep. He was in too deep.

He could barely recall why or how he had become so attached to the kid. Sure, he felt loyalty to his team and of course, Natasha was his fighting partner, he'd always have loyalty to her. But he'd never felt this desire to protect before, except with his family.

His eyes widened.

His family… Could he count Pietro among them now? What would happen after they had defeated Ultron, would Pietro go on living in the tower and Clint would take off back to his farm…? Or, could he convince Laura to let him offer a space in their home for Pietro?

Clint couldn't help but smile as he thought of he the young man settled into his home, into his life. He'd probably discover all kinds of new things- after being locked up in that base for so long and after a childhood in a war-torn country. Pietro might have never seen a horse before. Laura had a young, dappled mare in a stable near the woods bordering their land. Storm, it was called, a nod to the grey, clouded flank and the seemingly unpredictable nature.

Clint would be very interested in seeing that meeting.

Jolted back to the present, Clint's eyes caught Ultron streaking to hover in the air above the vast river cutting through Seoul. Even Clint couldn't see the details from this distance but it looked like he was holding something… or someone.

A spurt of panic hit Clint chest and he hit the acceleration, turning the jet towards the sentient, metal body. Hostages were a problem and no way in hell could he accept one civilian death. His state of mind got persistently worse as he neared and his heart plummeted all the way to his stomach as he recognised the figure suspended by Ultron.

Pietro.

"Hell no…" He whispered, half-growling, because that sentient ass had made it personal.

Pietro wasn't moving and, as he got closer, Clint saw Ultron hand was gripped to his throat. _No, no, no…_ The contact suddenly separating, Ultron left Pietro falling, zooming off in a horizontal line while Pietro plummeted straight down. Too far up, too fast.

"No!" Clint screamed desperately as he realised he'd be too late. The jet couldn't go any faster; he was breaking so many of S.H.I.E.L.D's rules right now. Stay focused on the mission. Don't push the jet to its limit unless trying to apprehend a world-threatening villain. Don't form attachments. But he didn't care. There was only one thing he cared about at that moment. "Pietro!"

Clint was making preparations even before Pietro crashed into the surface of the river. He angled the jet so it would make a controlled crash-landing on the riverbank, setting it to lock when he was out. He lowered the jet just as Pietro fell, the contact made sending water surging up briefly, splashing down and settling again, as if nothing had succeeded in breaching its surface.

Clint waited, just a second, while the jet flew into place, before running to the ramp. He leapt from the end without a second thought.

The water rushed towards him at a heart-stopping rate and he pulled into a dive at the last minute, minimising the slam of pain when he hit the water. A few quick strokes sent him further into the murky depths.

He found Pietro easily enough but the kid wasn't moving and his eyes were closed, his own weight slowly dragging him down. Streams of tiny bubbles slowly trailed up from his parted lips, white hair drifting in the water like a cloud of smoke. His fingers floated uselessly, as if trying to reach out for Clint but not having the strength.

Clint wrapped an arm around the young man's chest, kicking out against the water and clawing his way back to the fading light of the surface. _Hold on,_ he silently urged Pietro, who remained motionless as he was dragged up through the water.

 _Hold on!_


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N- Sorry, quite long compared to the last chapter. Do we like long chapters or prefer shorter ones? Let me know so I can act on your wishes. (I am very tired, I apologise.)**

 **Okay, buckle up, here we go_**

* * *

Clint breached the surface with a desperate gasp, coughing slightly as water splashed against his mouth.

He hauled Pietro up after him, making sure the kid's head stayed above the water. Clint was only too aware that Pietro hadn't so much as twitched through the entire ordeal to reach the surface. Setting off in a one-armed swim, Clint struggled to keep Pietro's limp form from slipping back beneath the water.

Pebbles shifted beneath his feet and he bit back a gasp of relief, turning around to work his way backwards as he dragged Pietro up onto the shore. Once clear of the water, Clint set the young man down, falling to kneel beside him and gripping his jaw to force him to face the sky.

His eyes were closed. His chest wasn't moving.

"Damn it.." Clint hissed, interlocking his fingers and beginning to press down above Pietro's heart.

"Clint!" Steve yelled from further up the beach, stumbling on the loose pebbles and skidding to a halt beside the archer. "Clint, what-"

"He's not breathing," Clint growled, his eyes never once leaving his hands.

Steve collapsed to his knees beside the archer, a hand moving to rest on Pietro's forehead, looking down at the young man with eyes narrowed in pity. Pietro remained motionless, face rapidly paling, chest stationary, his body jolting slightly with each compression.

Clint swore under his breath, smacked Steve's hand away and took Pietro's jaw, tilting his head back slightly and covering the kid's mouth with his own, pouring his breath past Pietro's lips. Pietro's body twitched reflexively and Clint drew back, helping Pietro onto his side as he gave a strangled choke, coughing up mouthfuls of water onto the slick pebbles.

"It's alright, it's alright!" Clint assured him urgently, yet his voice was quiet, gentle. "It's okay, Pietro! I'm here, I've got you.. I've got you, kid, try to breathe for me now. It's gonna be okay..."

Pietro's body convulsed, chest heaving as he turned to stare up at Clint, blinking rigidly. His lips flared, swallowing thickly before choking out an almost inaudible word. "Barton…?"

Clint shook his head disbelievingly. "You complete and utter-" He grasped Pietro's shoulders, lifting him into a sitting position and hugging him tightly. "-moron, Pietro Maximoff! What were you thinking?!"

Pietro's head fell against Clint's shoulder, shivering violently. His breathing was shallow, rasping and hitching slightly in his throat. Clint could feel the weak breath against the side of his neck and reached a hand up to gently touch Pietro's head, smoothing white strands back from his eyes.

"Hey," he whispered, worried his previous words had sounded too harshly. His hand moved to cradle the side of Pietro's jaw, sitting him upright to look at him kindly. "Hey, it's okay.. You're alright, kid. You're alright now."

Pietro's eyes fluttered faintly, his head falling against Clint's hand. His body fell limp against him, slumping down Clint's chest and the archer grabbed him before he could fall, carefully easing him down so he cradled the kid in his arms. Gently placing a hand to the side of his face, Clint prised one of Pietro's eyes open with his thumb, revealing rolled irises.

"He's passed out..." Clint muttered, lowering his eyelid, quiet for a moment before glancing up to Steve. "What happened?"

Steve shook his head, forehead creased into an anxious frown. "He saved me from Ultron's attacks but then he was targeted. I tried to get Ultron away from him but then they were both gone... hovering up above the city until Ultron dropped him... He spoke to him, I think... I don't know why."

Clint's eyes narrowed, turning back to Pietro, gently running a hand through his soaked hair. "We need to get him back to the jet..."

Steve moved to cradle Pietro's head in his hand. "Here, I'll take him. You keep watch for Ultron."

Clint watched as Steve lifted Pietro, making sure the kid wouldn't fall before taking his bow and snapping it up to full length. He tracked behind Steve, an arrow drawn back on the string in preparation for an attack.

Of course, they barely got five feet before a laser burnt into the ground inches from Clint's ankle.

"Go!" Clint shouted to Steve, hearing the soldier's boots crunch the pebbled shore and turning to scan the sky for Ultron. "Where are you...?" he muttered under his breath, his bow string drawn back to his jaw. "Come on, you bastard... Come and get me..."

The river erupted.

A cascade of water rained over Clint's head and three metal figures shot from the riptide. Three arrows down and the copies lay motionless in the water.

Clint was halfway to a fourth arrow when a heavy weight slammed into his side and he was sent sprawling down to the river, his body tumbling to a halt in the shallows. Water streamed from his hair as he shoved himself to his feet, staring down the shaft of an arrow into the lifeless eyes of Ultron. The robot whirred as an emotionless grin stretched the slit in his metal face and Clint's eyes narrowed.

"You'll never protect that boy..." Ultron growled suddenly, catching Clint off guard. "He is a weapon, he won't be contained... The energy pulsing through his veins would be too much for any weakling to handle... It will destroy him.. and you know it, don't you, Clint?"

Clenching his teeth so hard that they could break, Clint refused to reply, avoiding answering by throwing himself into battle.

He shot arrow after arrow, Ultron dodging each one, whipping out a knife to meet the robot in combat as he slammed towards the archer. Locked in a parried blow, vibranium arm against steel blade, Ultron stared down at him, grinning as if amused that this human could defy him.

"He is lighting," Ultron hissed. "Untouchable, unstoppable, destroying everything it touches, ripping the air apart, engulfing itself in it its own power... You cannot protect him from himself."

Clint gave a yell of rage, shoving his blade against Ultron's chest. The vibranium didn't even scratch while Clint's blade shattered to the hilt, leaving only a jagged shard protruding from the edge. The fragments scratched at Clint's hand as they fell across his skin. Ultron slammed a fist to his head and Clint's knees buckled, black dancing in his vision as he dropped to the ground.

"Clint!"

 _No..._ Clint thought desperately because that voice should not be here. _No, don't…_

Ultron's arm met his chest and the breath left him, sending him down onto his side, a hand clutching his ribs as he fought for air.

Hands tucked under his arms, hoisting him to his feet and his arm was slung around the back of a neck, his weight leaned against another as he was helped across unstable ground. The clunk of metal beneath his feet, a sloping surface, told him they were in the jet. He was led to a seat, which he slumped onto gratefully, hating the way his breathing shook in his chest.

"Pietro!" Steve's voice yelled commandingly. "Get in here!"

A rush of air and Clint felt the jet shift, engines roaring as it angled upwards. A hand set to his shoulder and his eyes opened to see the Captain knelt in front of him.

"Clint?" he asked anxiously, moving to force one of Clint's eyes open a little more. "Clint, can you see me? Are your ribs broken?"

Clint blinked away his hand. "I can see fine," he muttered, then took a shaky breath and rubbed at his chest. "Just winded, I'm okay."

Steve didn't seem convinced but he didn't argue. There was a breathless grunt from behind him and Steve glanced around. Gazing over the soldier's broad shoulder, Clint could see Pietro stumbling down to collapse against the side of the row of seats bordering the opposite side of the jet. He fumbled weakly, using his hands to support himself against the seats before slumping to the floor.

"Pietro!" Steve whispered urgently, leaving Clint to catch his breath and rushing to kneel at Pietro's side. He swiped a hand over Pietro's forehead, smoothing loose strands of pale hair from the young man's face. "Pietro, are you alright?"

Pietro nodded weakly. "Yes, I… I'm just.. lightheaded… It-It'll pass.."

Steve's eyes narrowed anxiously. "Pietro, you're shaking."

Swallowing uncomfortably, Pietro pushed a hand to the ground to try and heave himself up. "I'm okay," he murmured, managing to stagger to his feet with Steve's aid. "I'm just cold."

Steve gripped Pietro's arm tight as his knees buckled, weakening so he swayed against the captain. "Okay, okay, I've got you," Steve muttered assurance, gently easing Pietro down as his legs gave way. "I've got you, Pietro. Lay back." His hand gently lay Pietro's head down against the metal ground. "I'll get you a blanket, just stay put, okay?"

Clint heaved himself up, briefly using the top of the pilot's seat for support as he stumbled over to Pietro, dropping down beside the kid. His eyes were closed now, his breaths even, and Clint gently placed a hand to the side of his jaw.

"Kid…?"

"Clint."

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes following Steve as the Captain knelt on Pietro's other side, shaking out a blanket. He cast a quick look down at Pietro as he arranged the blanket over his still form, staring back up at Clint with soft, understanding eyes.

"You should be resting, Clint," he chided softly. "I can watch over him."

"I'm fine. Just winded." His gaze drifted back to Pietro's slack expression, the closed eyes, slightly parted lips. "Is he sleeping?"

Steve frowned briefly, leaning forward to gently take Pietro's pulse. His frown deepened. "His pulse is weak…" A large hand moved to touch Pietro's cheek. "He's freezing; his skin's like ice… I think he might have fainted."

Clint's eyes narrowed in concern, busying himself with gently pulling the blanket a little further up Pietro's chest. He looked small suddenly, his relaxed features reminding Clint how young he was; how vulnerable he seemed now. He wasn't even twenty yet, a child really. He was just a kid.

Pietro groaned weakly, eyes flickering as he surfaced from the brink of unconsciousness. "Damn it..." He coughed breathlessly, chest heaving faintly.

"Steady," Clint warned, gently holding him down as he went to struggle up. "Don't try to move. You hit that water at some speed, kid. You could've died."

"I'm fine-"

"No," Clint muttered, touching his forehead. "No, you're not. You were dropped a few hundred feet into a river and half drowned, you are not fine." His eyes softened. "Do you think you can sit up? We should get your chest checked for any injuries or problems."

Pietro nodded a little, pushing himself into a sitting position with Steve's help and leaning back against the row of seats. Steve got to his feet, stepping aside to check the course of the jet's automatic system was correctly taking them to the tower. Clint moved to drape the blanket around Pietro's shoulders.

"Can you take your shirt off, or is it too painful?"

Pietro shook his head and complied, wincing slightly as he stripped the fabric over his head. Clint helped him silently, dropping his t-shirt to the middle section of seats in the centre of the jet. A pained grimace crossed Pietro's features as he slumped back, a hand drifting to his shoulder.

Clint scanned his chest, eyes flitting anxiously over the red marks, the shades of blue and green that threatened future bruises over Pietro's accentuated ribs. He pulled the black trousers slightly, examining the kid's battered hips before moving the clothing back into place.

"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked softly.

Pietro shook his head. "I'm okay… It's mainly from the fight on the train, I think."

"Right…" Clint glanced over his shoulder, seeing the bed was unclipped from the side of the jet so it lay flat. "I think I'm gonna have to get you over to the bed. Here-" He took Pietro's arm, carefully helping him to his feet. "Can you walk?"

Pietro assured him he'd be fine but the stumble that followed had Clint gripping a hand to his hip, an arm curled around his back. "I'm fine," Pietro muttered but he seemed to be barely clinging onto consciousness. His eyelids were low, his body slumping against Clint's side, his voice fading. "I'm fine…"

Clint's eyes narrowed, a hand moving up to smooth pale hair from Pietro's forehead. "You're not fine, kid. You're exhausted… You pushed yourself too far, Pietro. It was too much too fast. Cap shouldn't have let you come on this mission."

Pietro tried to shove him away but was too weak to stand on his own and Clint leaped forward to steady him. "I'm not a child," Pietro mumbled, his voice quiet and noticeably frail. "I can look after myself… Don't need you to fuss over me…"

The words stung but Clint refused to let it show, his face remaining impassive. "You need to rest, Pietro. Come on." He swept Pietro up into his arms before the young man could protest, hauling him over to the bed and laying him down even before Pietro could register what was happening.

"Wha…" Pietro eyes were heavy, blinking slowly as he struggled to come to terms with his surroundings. "Clint…"

Clint blinked down at him kindly, hoping his eyes held some reassurance as he gently gripped Pietro's pale hand, smoothing over the knuckles as he set it back down at the young man's side.

"I gotta check if you've broken anything," he muttered levelly, gently resting his hands to Pietro's ribs. He was shivering from the cold of the river. "Breathe in."

He did so and Clint distinctively felt the muscles in his abdomen contract weakly, as if his entire body was clenching in anguish. His breathing hitched painfully, closing his eyes briefly.

"How bad is the pain?" Clint asked calmly, forcing his voice to sound normal as he gently moved down Pietro's ribcage.

Pietro shook his head. "It is there but I have had worse."

"Don't-" Clint began sternly, then took in a silent breath to calm his voice. "Don't try to compare your injuries to past experience. Don't let that cloud your judgement, just tell me how it feels."

Pietro took a sharp breath and Clint slowly removed his hands, glancing to the kid's face to see his eyes were shut, a grimace of pain etched across his pale features. He let out a controlled breath, his eyes opening slowly and blinking up at Clint.

The archer touched the side of his jaw briefly. "What hurts..? Tell me what hurts and I'll try to make it better."

Pietro's hand trembled slightly as he lifted it to hover his palm over his ribs. "Here," he admitted softly, resting a hand above his right side. "Hurts when I breathe."

Clint removed his hand, lightly smoothing his fingers across accentuated, bruised strips of ribs. Pietro's features twisted into a grimace of anguish and a small gasp escaped his lips. A sympathetic smile briefly twitched over Clint's lips.

"It's okay," he assured gently. "I know it hurts, you don't have to hide from me. Your ribs hurt, I know they do." His fingers trailed the bruising down Pietro's chest. "You've bruised your sternum.. I think you might have fractured your ribs. Anything else hurt?"

Pietro shook his head. "Just where the bruises are… Like here-" His fingers drifted over a large bruise blossoming above his hip. "Not broken.. Just bruised."

He broke off to yawn, his eyes watering so that he had to raise a hand and wipe at them. Clint wasn't sure if it was because of his injuries or simply a reflexive reaction to him yawning. Either way, his heart clenched with sympathy.

"Rest up, kid," he ordered, smiling as Pietro's eyes had begun to slip even before he'd spoken. "Sleep it off. I got first watch."

Clint remained at his side until his expression relaxed, his face going slack as he fell asleep. Reaching over, Clint gently took the edge of the blanket in his hand, pulling it up to cover Pietro's bare chest. His lips were tinged with blue and he shivered a little. Clint stroked a lock of hair off his face, tucking it behind his ear; Pietro was so exhausted he barely stirred.

Smiling softly, Clint retracted his hand, watching over the kid. He knew he was in too deep already. There was a hole in his armour, he shouldn't embrace it. But Pietro was so young. If he was hurt again on one of these missions, Clint would never forgive himself.

Clint had to protect him. Whatever the cost.


	20. Chapter 20

Ice flooded Pietro's veins, so cold that it burnt, and his eyes closed, grunting weakly to try and voice his discomfort. A thumb roughly forced one of his eyelids up, holding for a moment but Pietro couldn't see. For a terrifying moment, he thought he might have gone blind.

"Well something's certainly happening."

"You think Strucker's going to be interested in something? He wants results, not vague statements."

The thumb disappeared and Pietro could feel himself shivering. A stab of white hot pain lanced up his forearm, lingering until his lips parted in a half-formed moan. Anguish struck his chest, twisting his features into a grimace and his back arched involuntary, the movement so sudden that Pietro gasped. His heart ached uncomfortably and a half-formed groan escaped Pietro's lips.

"For gods sake, strap him down properly.. If he breaks his back Strucker will throw us in that stupid river."

 _Strucker..._ Pietro thought, realisation hitting him suddenly. _Strucker!_

A hand set to his chest, pushing him down. He struggled against it but he wasn't strong enough to break free.

 _Pietro_ , said a voice, faded and disjointed. _Pietro, snap out of it!_

Pain seared through his bloodstream, seeming to spark his veins alight. His sides heaved shakily, his eyes focusing as much as they could. Two men stood on either side of him, two hydra agents in white uniform, their faces impassive. He saw them in blurs, his vision doubling briefly and the image flickered.

They were different now, concerned frowns, both stood to his left, one in a dark vest top, the other in a blue spandex. This was wrong, everything was going wrong.

Pietro's eyes flitted to the side, the white clothed agents staring down at him. One of them grunted in exasperation, lip curled.

"Just knock him out. I'm not dealing with this brat right now."

 _Should we sedate him? He could seriously hurt himself if he's too distressed._

"Imrich, come on. Brat? I heard he was, like, fifteen."

"Bullshit is this kid fifteen. I heard Strucker lied on their ages, changed their records so as not to make authorities too suspicious. No one gives a damn if teenagers go missing; they try escape across the border all the time."

Pietro's eyes snapped down to his forearm, the tendons tight and stretched, a tube taped into his arm. Blue liquid seeped down the tube into his arm. His veins glowed blue shining visibly beneath his skin, running up Pietro's arm like the skeletal branches of a tree. Hs throat closed up, gulping for breath but the air didn't touch his lungs.

Pietro's vision was swaying, his eyes betraying him as half-formed images swam in front of his eyes. He was slammed to the ground of the training room, strapped to a cold chair, lying in a bed with a glowing IV line running into his arm, trickles of blood spilling from his pale skin, running in streams down his forearm, red liquid obscuring his vision.

His breathing picked up, panic flaring in his chest as the background faded, trails of glowing, crimson blood meandering down the darkness.

 _Pietro! Pietro, come on._

Pietro's eyes snapped open.

His chest heaved shakily, surprised to find his lungs empty and burning. Had he not been breathing? A slight ache spread across his chest but it was bearable, nothing like his previous experience.

A hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him a little.

"Kid?"

His eyes flicked to the speaker, trailing up the length of the arm to find Clint stood beside him. Pietro frowned, lifting his head. He was in the jet. Of course he was in the jet. Now he couldn't remember why he thought he'd be anywhere else.

"I forgot..." he murmured to himself.

"What?" Clint frowned, resting a hand to Pietro's head, his touch comforting. "What do you mean?"

Pietro shook his head, dropping back against a soft pillow. "I.. I don't..." He squeezed his eyes shut, furious at himself. "Hydra... did something... I.." He gritted his teeth, his eyes opening. "Why can't I remember?!"

"Kid, it's okay," Clint assured him kindly, smoothing a palm down the side of Pietro's head. "It's okay. Don't work yourself up, it was just a dream."

Pietro blinked drowsily. "It.. felt important…"

"Okay.. but you getting well again is more important, I'm gonna say," Clint muttered, lips twitching into a small smile.

Pietro blinked slowly, his breathing picking up slightly. He swallowed, a hand lifting to his throat and rubbing at the base, between the join of his collarbones. A small cough racked his chest, and he struggled to push himself up with his free hand.

"Pietro?" Clint asked anxiously, helping him to sit up. "Pietro, what's wrong?"

Pietro shook his head, his hand moving to his chest. "I… I can't breathe…" he whispered, letting the words out in an exhale. "Clint…"

"Hey, calm," Clint urged soothingly. "Keep calm and try to take deep breaths."

Chest convulsing suddenly, Pietro's throat hitched and he collapsed to the side. Clint's hand set to his back and he felt Pietro's muscles tense beneath his hand as his body heaved weakly, coughing hoarsely. He was struggled to gulp in the air, fighting to breathe between endless chokes.

"Rogers!" Clint called. "Need some help over here!"

There were heavy footsteps and Steve was at Pietro's side in a heartbeat, gripping the kid's shoulder as he choked, stray droplets dripping from his mouth. Steve haphazardly ran a hand through Pietro's hair, glancing to Clint with anxious eyes.

"He needs oxygen."

Clint complied without question, hooking a mask from a tank beneath the bed. Steve gently rolled Pietro onto his back, a hand moving to his throat as Clint fixed the oxygen mask over his mouth. Pietro thrashed weakly, his eyes shut tightly as a hand moving to grip Steve's arm, trying to force his hand away.

"Steve.." Clint began, uncertainly. "Steve, you're frightening him."

"It's okay," Steve murmured softly and Clint saw his fingers move, gently massaging Pietro's throat. "It's okay… You need to relax, Pietro.. You're experiencing something called dry drowning and it's making your airway close up.. You need to relax to ease the tension on your throat."

Pietro's chest heaved weakly, a choked whine escaping his lips. Clint's fists clenched.

"For gods sake, Steve, he's terrified."

Steve barely glanced to the archer. "Help him. He needs to relax, talk to him. Make him calm down."

Hesitating a moment, Clint took Pietro's hand, moving his other to smooth white hair back from Pietro's eyes. "Kid..?" he tried, uncertainly. "Kid, look at me."

Pietro's eyes flickered, opening at the sound of his voice. The inside of the oxygen mask clouded with every ragged exhale. "Clint…"

"Yeah, kid," assured the archer, smiling in relief. "Yeah, it's me, see?" He lay a hand to the side of Pietro's jaw, carefully turning his head so the young man faced him. "You can see me, right?" Pietro nodded faintly and Clint's smile grew, hooking a lock of hair from Pietro's face and tucking it behind his ear. "I need you to relax for me, kid. Relax…"

Pietro swallowed weakly, hitching throat hitching beneath Steve's hand. "I… I need… Something I… had to remember…"

"It's okay, Pietro," Clint murmured gently. "It's alright, you're gonna be okay. Just keep calm." He smiled slightly as he picked up a change in Pietro's breathing. "That's it.. That's it, kid, deep breaths now. Focus on breathing deeply, you'll be okay."

Pietro blinked slowly. "Can I sleep…?"

Clint nodded, stroking his head gently. "Yeah, kid… Yeah, you can sleep. We'll be at the tower soon, we can get you some meds." He took Steve's wrist, prising his hand away from Pietro's throat. "Let him sleep.. He needs to rest, he's tired."

Pietro's eyes slipped and closed, his breaths eventually evening out into a slow rhythm. A skiff of hair fell across his forehead and Clint gently hooked it with his finger, pushing it back off his face. Pietro barely stirred which Clint was grateful for. The kid needed to sleep.

Clint could only hope he stayed sleeping throughout the journey.

* * *

Pietro's eyes flickered.

White light blinded him for a moment and his eyes narrowed, groaning irritably as he tried to turn away.

"Kid?"

He turned his head to the other side, glancing over to where Clint sat beside him. Blinking to clear his vision, he stared up at Clint before shifting his arms to push against the mattress. Clint touched his shoulder gently, a question. Pietro waved him off; he could manage.

Clint glanced to the ceiling. "F.R.I.D.A.Y tell Stark Pietro's awake."

"Certainly, Mr. Barton."

"Why?" Pietro muttered, resting his pillows against the headboard of the bed and leaning back against them.

Clint turned back to him. "He said he wanted me to let him know when you woke up.. He said he had something to tell you."

The door opened and Tony entered the room, a clipboard under one arm, a clouded expression on his face. He was confused and uncertain and Pietro didn't think he'd ever seen Stark look like that. This looked like-

"Bad news?" Clint asked, his voice light but failing to keep the worry from his tone.

Tony glanced to him briefly before making his way to Pietro's other side, sitting himself on the edge of the bed with a weary sigh.

"Kid.. I've dug something up." Tony mumbled, his tone confused, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. "I.. uh… I've found the completed version of your file. It seems that Hydra weren't exactly certain of your age…"

Pietro blinked, confused. "My age…? I thought…"

"You're listed as deceased at nineteen," Tony interjected before he could say it. "But you don't have any hospital records and, while Hydra's public documents of your age have you as currently nineteen, in their first, more personal, files they have your date of birth listed in 1999 which would make you seventeen…"

Pietro frowned, shaking his head. "I don't understand…"

Tony's eyes were unusually kind as he made his way to Pietro's bedside. "Kid, how old are you?"

Pietro blinked, as if he was only now considering his age. "I…" He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking. "I don't know.. There are gaps… in my life.. Years I can't remember." A hand moved up to grip his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I can't think.. It hurts."

"Alright kid.." Clint put an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close. "Alright, try not to think about it." He glanced to Tony. "He's exhausted, don't push him."

Tony's eyes narrowed in what may have seemed like indifference to anyone else, but Clint had learnt to read the emotion in his eyes. He was worried. Worried that his questions had hurt Pietro somehow, worried at the fact that Pietro could be seventeen for all they knew and they'd sent him into battle.

He and Clint exchanged a glance and Tony nodded his understanding, turning heel and leaving the room, closing the door silently behind him. Clint glanced down to Pietro, running a hand haphazardly through the kid's hair and drawing away slightly.

"Are you okay?"

"They told me I was nineteen." Pietro whispered, his eyes set on nothing, slightly glazed. "I thought my age was certain. I… I can't trust anything anymore, not even knowledge about myself… Nothing's right…" He paused briefly, glancing up to Clint. "Why would they lie to me about that?"

Clint shook his head uncertainly. "Maybe they needed you to grow up faster.. I suppose it would have made it easier to manipulate you if you felt like you'd spent more time with them… Something like Stockholm syndrome. They needed you to trust them."

"What am I, Clint?" Pietro questioned softly, eyes glazed. "I was told I was a weapon for so long… Maybe that's all I am."

"You are not a weapon, Pietro," growled Clint with such ferocity that Pietro's eyes flitted to his face. "You aren't an object, you're not a possession, you are a person. Don't you dare forget that, not ever."

Pietro was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands as he fidgeted with them over his lap. "The only reason I'm here is because of my power… It… It's wrong, it makes me different… I fight because I'm different, I lash out until I feel safe and I… I hurt people.. so I'm a weapon." He looked away, his voice low. "I was just kidding myself trying to be anything other than what they made me."

Clint didn't know what to say. "How… How can you think that, kid…?" He asked, soft disbelief evident in his tone. "They wanted to control you into doing what they wanted but you fought them, Pietro… I've seen the footage, you defied them, told them they were wrong for trying to hurt people… You're not like them; you're an avenger, Pietro."

Another silence and Pietro shook his head, turning his eyes back to Clint, his irises sad. "I can't…" He whispered, just audible. "I shouldn't even be here. I'm only here because I can't live in society without hurting people.. That's right, isn't it…? I'm here because I'm dangerous… People would be afraid of me because I'm not…. I'm not normal."

Clint's eyes narrowed as he recalled Bruce saying something similar. _He can't be normal, Clint. Not after what Hydra's done to him…_ As much as he hated to admit it, as much as he hated seeing Pietro so down on himself, Clint knew Bruce was right. Pietro was quiet, waiting, but Clint didn't have an answer to give.

Understanding crossed Pietro's expression, his eyes tinged with sadness.

"I'm not like you." He murmured softly. "I wish I was… But I'm not a hero, Clint. I never will be."

Reaching forward, Clint gripped Pietro's hand, holding him tight.

"Don't ever think that." He hissed fiercely. "You think you can't be an avenger because of your powers? Look at Steve, look at Banner for christ sake, you think they aren't avengers?"

Pietro shook his head. "I didn't mean that."

"What then?"

"I meant…" Pietro sighed. "I meant, they didn't let it hold them back… They embraced it and learnt to use it to their advantage. They saw it as an opportunity to do great things and I can't be like them because… because I wasn't good to start with." He trailed off slightly, his eyes closed. "I was so angry… after my parents died… I was just so angry, I wanted to kill Stark and I needed power to do that… I sold my humanity for revenge…"

Clint smoothed a hand over his shoulder, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. "Kid, I'm going to tell you something now… When I first encountered Thor, the guy was a complete asshole." Pietro blinked his confusion. "Yeah, he was arrogant and really he was just a dumb, condescending teenager trying to impress his dad.. but he changed because people change, Pietro… _You_ changed."

Pausing a moment, Clint wondered if he should delve further into this. He'd leave Natasha's past out of it, no one had a right to know details of that but the two of them, but maybe he could scratch the surface of his own.

He took a deep breath. "Look, kid…" He began carefully, already having second thoughts. "We've all changed. Stark's gone from weapons to welfare and I… Well, I wasn't in a great spot before I joined the avengers either… I was angry too and I was a kid. At that stage, I know, if someone offers you a chance, you take anything you can get."

Pietro looked at him searchingly. "You don't want to talk about this… Why are you?"

"Because I need you to understand." Clint muttered, furious at himself for not letting the kid know this before. "I need you to know that just because a person had done bad things it doesn't make them a bad person. Because you're not, Pietro. You're really not. I'm actually astounded by how you're still so good after everything you've been through."

Pietro swallowed hard, blinking unevenly and glancing away, as if fighting back tears. Clint frowned, gripping his shoulder.

"Pietro?"

"I don't…" Pietro began, swallowing again. "I don't think I'm strong enough.. I can't be everything I need to be but I need to fight because… because I don't have anything else… I need to find Wanda. I need to keep her safe, I need… I need _you_ safe.."

Clint's eyes narrowed in sympathy. "It's okay."

He honestly didn't know what else to say without sounding patronising or sounding like he didn't care. But it was, it was okay and Clint understood how Pietro was feeling better than anyone. They were quiet for a moment until Pietro blinked twice in quick succession, seeming to realise something.

"Wait, where's the cradle? Did you get it?"

Clint nodded, folding his arms. "Yeah, kid. Yeah, we got it. I don't know what those guys are going to do with it but I guess we should have an input, huh?"

Pietro muttered his agreement, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. "They might do something they regret."

Clint nodded and their eyes locked briefly. If Ultron had plans involving the cradle, they'd be anything but good. And with Tony being Tony, whatever was happening several floors below would surely be a cause for concern.


	21. Chapter 21

Clint seemed distracted as he led the way down a flight of stairs.

Pietro didn't comment on it in fear of disrupting Clint's train of thought. He may have been staring a little too much and Clint began to notice, glancing to Pietro with a small smile etched over his lips, not quite here nor there but genuine at least.

"You look worried."

Pietro immediately smoothed his expression. "I… No, I just… You looked like you were thinking."

Clint let out a small exhale of amusement but he didn't reply, remaining in silence until they reached the party deck. He halted, glancing up the ramp to Tony laboratory and then to a door just visible behind the ramp, his movements conflicted.

"You go up without me, kid," Clint gestured to the staircase, his voice absent. "I'll join you later."

Pietro frowned. Clint sounded suspiciously hollow. "Are you okay?"

Clint glanced to him, lips twitching in a slightly forced smile. "I'm fine. I just... I gotta find Nat."

Pietro's mouth opened in realisation but he didn't speak, just nodded. Natasha was important to Clint. The two shared a kind of bond unique to anyone else on the team, leading Pietro to believe they each played a significant role in the others past. It was something familiar... like family.

"Pietro?"

Pietro was jolted from his thoughts at the sound of Clint's voice. "Huh?"

Clint quirked a smile, genuine this time, fond. "Go on. I'll be there in a sec."

Pietro nodded again, watching as Clint headed off to vanish through a door under the ramp. Putting on a burst of speed, Pietro made his way up the ramp and curved around into the laboratory, slowing to a stop as he silently opened the door.

This was Tony's workshop, gadgets and screws, scraps of metal and oil-smeared rags scattered over the worktops. Voices were clear up ahead and Pietro moved between the tables and robots, making the unconscious decision to observe from afar as he realised his position was hidden in darkness.

The cradle was as Pietro remembered from catching a glimpse of it in the jet. The object seemed almost otherworldly, some kind of figure shrouded in bluish mist beneath the glass screen. Cables and plugs were fixed to one end, leading off to god knows where- some kind of power source would be Pietro's guess.

Bruce was inspecting the 'body' in the cradle while Tony stood on a higher level surrounded by computers and holographic screens. Pietro frowned. He'd had a feeling that Tony would probably try to experiment with the cradle a little but not on this scale. It looked as though he was continuing Ultron's work...

Tony tapped at a keyboard, frustrated, and flashed glances between screens on either side. "This framework is not compatible…"

"The genetic coding tower is at ninety-seven percent," Bruce informed, trailing a hand over the cradle as he walked around to the other end of the object, taking his glasses off to glance up at Tony as he went. "You have got to upload that schematic in the next three minutes." He leaned down to check the cables leading into the cradle.

Heavy footsteps sounded and Steve strode into view, in full uniform and with the shield ready on his right arm. "I'm gonna say this once."

"How about 'none-ce'?" Tony snapped right back without a second of hesitation.

"Shut it down!" Steve's voice was heated.

"Nope, not gonna happen," Tony brushed his order off, continuing his work as if the Captain hadn't interrupted.

"You don't know what you're doing."

Pietro blinked in surprise. As far as he could remember, this was only the second real argument he'd seen between the team. He hated seeing them split like this, taking sides against one another.

Maybe it was Pietro's lack of academic prowess but he for one couldn't see what Tony was hoping to accomplish. He sped to Steve's side, glancing to the soldier as he whipped around in shock at Pietro's sudden appearance.

"What's going on?" Pietro asked.

Tony glanced away, like he regretted fighting in front of him. "Stay out of this, kid."

Pietro's eyes narrowed. "I am not a child. Why are you doing what Ultron wants?"

"We're not," Bruce corrected calmly. "Tony wants to continue work on the body but upload Jarvis' conscience into it instead of Ultron's. It won't be like what happened with Ultron. This will be equally as powerful but without all the psychotic glitches; we could even use it to stop him."

Steve stepped forward. "That's too close to how you made Ultron. Something could go seriously wrong."

"Do you _want_ that to happen?" Pietro queried disbelievingly glancing over at Tony.

Tony sighed. "Pietro, you gotta see the bigger picture here-"

"I do not see the bigger picture," Pietro retorted, his words almost lost in the continuing argument.

"Guys, after everything that's happened-"

"It's nothing compared to what's coming!"

Pietro gritted his teeth, his veins setting alight as his power rose involuntarily, provoked by confusion and frustration, and he shot forward. He slammed into the cables, half tripping up on them as the raced round the cradle. Skidding to a halt, he dropped a plug, barely aware he'd been pulling them out. The avengers were staring at him in shock.

"I-I'm sorry," he apologised shakily, looking around at them. "I had to stop you fight-"

His voice cut off and he seemed to see it in slow motion. Stark- obviously working mostly on instinct- struck a hand out, a piece of his ironman suit attaching itself to his arm. A blast of white light shot from his palm, zooming towards the ground beneath Pietro and shattering the glass.

"Pietro!"

Steve yelled his name as he fell, landing on his back with a grunt of pain. Arms covering his face just in time, shards of glass fell around him, shattering on impact with the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat before scrambling to a rough sitting position.

"Jesus christ, kid, are you alright?" Clint was there suddenly, crouched in front of him, touching his shoulder anxiously. "What the hell happened?"

"Stark, Cap, they're-" Pietro's voice cut off as a loud crash sounded from above.

More glass came cascading down and Pietro moved his arm to cover his face. Arms wrapped around him and there was a series of smashing noises as lethal shards shattered to the ground. Pietro blinked his eyes open. Clint had protected him. The archer had his arms wrapped around Pietro's shoulders and had drawn the young man close, shielding him from the falling glass.

Clint cautiously released his hold, slackening his grip on the kid and raising a hand, brushing glass out his hair. He winced a little, touching his shoulder tentatively before looking back to Pietro, angling his head in a worried notion.

"You okay? What happened?"

Pietro nodded, still a little shocked by the archers action. "I-Yeah, I'm fine. Tony.. shot the floor out. I-" His eyes fixed on Clint's shoulder. His shirt was ripped from the glass and there was a deep gash in his flesh, blood dripping from the cut. "Clint, you're hurt."

"It's nothing," Clint insisted as he stood up, helping Pietro to his feet. "It's just a scratch."

Clint glanced up to the shattered ceiling, anger flaring in his irises. Before Pietro could react, Clint had pulled out a gun from the holster on his belt and taken off up the stairs to the lab. Pietro cursed in Sokovian under his breath, scrambling up after the archer.

Reluctant to use his power after his outburst prior, Pietro appeared back in the lab to see Clint had already made it across the room. The archer was heading straight for Stark, slamming his gun on a nearby table. The echoing sound was loud enough to stop the argument, voices fading as Clint stepped up to Tony.

In prefect silence, Clint slammed his fist against Tony's jaw, sending him staggering back with a hand clutched the side of his face.

"What the hell, Clint?!" Tony yelled.

"Don't you dare," Clint murmured, his voice deadly quiet, raising as his tone became more heated. "Don't you dare even wonder why I did that!"

Tony narrowed his eyes, rubbing at the side of his jaw. "It wasn't personal, Barton. I just had to stop him screwing the cradle."

Clint grabbed him by the collar, dragging him forward so their eyes locked. "You hurt him again... You so much as lay a finger on him and I swear I will kill you."

"Clint!" Pietro exclaimed, shocked.

There was a thunderous crash and they whipped round to see Thor leap at the cradle, stray glass scattered from his cape and he thudded against the top of the cradle. Thrusting his arm up, he raised his hammer to the heavens.

"Wait!" Bruce screamed, starting forward desperately.

Lightning cracked the air and Pietro winced, sheltering his eyes with an arm as blinding light washed the room. Electricity crackled through the air and Thor swung his hammer down, directing the branches of lightning into the cradle. A rapid, high-pitched beeping sound increased and peaked.

Thor pulled away and there were perfect stillness for a moment. No one even appeared to breathe.

With a rush, the cradle tore apart, shrapnel ejecting from every corner and Thor was thrown back, crashing down into a pile of glass. From the fog surfaced a humanoid figure, elegant in a way as it lifted itself to crouch at the end of the cradle. Mist fell around it and Pietro's eyes narrowed curiously. The skin was red and blue, a yellow stone planted into the forehead.

The avengers stirred as one, glancing up to the figure as it stood, scanning its surroundings in a confused nature. Some of the team backed away while others looked on, curious and wary. A hand closed around Pietro's shoulder and he was pulled back, Clint moving in front of him with a loaded pistol at his side.

The figure's gaze came to rest on Thor and, with incredible speed, it shot forward. Thor flipped it easily, sending it flying back until, with a sudden control, the figure stopped, barely missing the glass.

The city was alive, windows blazing with light, cars roaming the streets. Pietro could remember the awe that had taken him as he looked over it for the first time. The figure, hovering steadily, seemed to be experiencing a similar feeling as a hand was held up towards the glass, as if attempting to touch the city itself.

Steve jumped down onto the lower level but Thor struck out a hand to warn him back. The avengers converged on the figure as it flew down, the body darkening while leaving the face and lower arms red. Pietro sped forward curiously, Clint following down the stairs behind him.

The figure landed gracefully. "I am sorry," he apologised, his voice smooth and with a clear, rich accent that Pietro couldn't distinguish. "That was… odd." He- Pietro supposed it was a he due to the voice- looked to Thor. "Thank you."

Thor heaved out a breath, giving a tiny nod of acknowledgement. Like an illusion, something gold appeared on the figure's chest, curling back and spanning down into a golden cape.

"Thor," Steve caught his attention. "You helped create this?"

"I've had a vision," Thor explained deeply. "A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life and at its centre is that." He pointed to the glowing stone on the red forehead.

"What the gem?"

"It's the mind stone."

Pietro felt a shudder at those words and he blinked rapidly. Thor spoke of power and destruction and Pietro felt his own power flicker briefly, clenching his fists and taking a deep breath to force it back. He was confused, out of place, and his fear was provoking his anger. He had to control it.

Steve stepped forward, frowning. "Then why would you bring-"

"Because Stark is right."

Bruce took a breath. "Oh, it's definitely the end times."

"The avengers cannot defeat Ultron."

"Not alone," the figure corrected Thor gently, stepping forward, more confident now.

Steve moved closer. "Why does your Vision sound like Jarvis?"

Pietro frowned. Were they calling it a Vision?

"We've reconfigured Jarvis's matrix.." Tony explained, eyeing the Vision carefully as he passed. "To create something new."

"Think I've had my fill of new."

"You think I'm a child of Ultron." Vision sounded almost offended.

Steve raised a sceptical brow. "You're not?"

The Vision's head barely shook. "I'm not Ultron… I'm not Jarvis. I am…" He trailed off, confused a moment before lifting his gaze again. "I am."

"What?"

Pietro barely realised the word had escaped before the avengers had glanced in his direction. The Vision turned to him, his gaze slightly unnerving.

"What are you…?" Pietro said, as politely as he could. "What's.. that?" He gestured vaguely to the mind stone.

The Vision approached him slowly, his head tilted a little. "You are drawn to it…" he murmured. "I feel it… Your ability… It is unstable." He closed his eyes briefly. "Oh, I can feel it… You have such.. potential… such power coursing through your veins."

Pietro swallowed thickly. "What do you mean?"

A hand lifted and cold fingers touched the side of his face. He gasped as his eyes clouded with darkness. The sceptre hovered in the endless black, the object rotating and spinning until Pietro reached out a hand and touched the jewel. The blue casing shattered and misted away, the entire frame falling back into darkness until all that remained was the stone.

It was blank for a moment, grey and lifeless until, without warning, light pulsed across its surface, bright and yellow, glowing in the darkness. There was an electrical humming emitting from the stone as the light grew brighter. Looking down, Pietro saw blue trails spanning up his arms, lighting his veins. The colour flickered abruptly, jolting yellow in its place. Wind rushed in Pietro's ears, a hand grasped his shoulder. His eyes snapped open with a gasp and he fell back.

"Kid!"

Clint was by his side in an instant, helping him to sit up. Pietro raised a hand to grip his throbbing temple, panicked and disorientated.

"Pietro, talk to me," Clint urged, letting the younger man lean against him. "What did you see?"

Pietro lowered his hand shakily, scanning his pale skin. It was clean, untainted. "It… It's me…" He whispered, although it barely made sense, it was the only thing he could think to describe it as. He was connected to it. "It's me…"

"What is?"

"The stone…" Pietro clutched his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's in my blood.. Part of me…"

"Pietro's powers, the horrors in our head, Ultron himself, they all came from the mind stone," Thor pressed, willing them to understand. "And they are nothing compared to what it can unleash."

Clint glanced to Pietro anxiously, running his hand along his shoulders. His breathing was laboured, his face pale. "Kid…" he murmured sympathetically.

"He will be fine," Vision assured Clint quietly. "Make sure he is hydrated, he'll be okay."

Clint's eyes narrowed. "Stone's pretty damn powerful, huh?"

"Yes," Thor agreed. "But with it on our side-"

"Is it?" Steve asked abruptly, turned to the Vision. "Are you…? On our side?"

Vision glanced down, thoughtful. "I don't think it's that simple," he stated calmly, forehead furrowing.

"Well, it better get real simple real soon," Clint muttered, his patience shortened in concern for Pietro, who was slumped against his side. "Whose side are you on?"

Vision looked to him briefly, turning back to the others. "I am on the side of life. Ultron is not… He will end it all."

"What's he waiting for?" Tony asked, almost as if he didn't want the answer.

"You."

Banner frowned. "Where?"

Clint's heart plummeted as he recalled Natasha's message. "Sokovia," he answered regretfully, noting Pietro glance up from the corner of his eye. "He's got Nat there too."

Brue swallowed, walking up to stand in front of Vision. "If we're wrong about you.." he began quietly, his voice somehow a lot more threatening this way. "If you're the monster that Ultron made you to be…"

Vision looked concerned, fearful. "What will you do?"

There was an unspoken answer in the silence that followed.

"I don't want to kill Ultron," Vision stated calmly, walking past Bruce. "He's unique and he's in pain… But that pain will roll over the Earth. So he must be destroyed. Every from he's built, every trace of presence on the net. We have to act now…" He turned back to address them all. "And not one of us can do it without the others."

Clint glanced down at Pietro, solemn. He couldn't send him into battle, not again, not after what had happened last time, not when he still had no idea on the kid's age. As if he could feel Clint staring at him, Pietro looked up at him. Although clearly exhausted, there was something powerful in his eyes, determined.

"Maybe I am a monster…" Vision said thoughtfully, looking down at his arms. "I don't think I'd know if I were one. I'm not what you are, and not what you intended… So, there may be no way to make you trust me… But we need to go."

The avengers were stunned into silence.

Completely at ease, as if it weighed nothing, Vison was holding Mjölnir to Thor.

The remarkable sight was greeted with slack jaws and wide eyes. Thor accepted his weapon, subdued briefly as Vision strode past him. His eyes darted to each side and the others stared at him, as if waiting for his reaction. Mjölnir swung once and Thor tapped the head of the hammer against his palm, cheerfully.

"Right," he nodded, walking past Tony and clapping him on the shoulder. "Well done."

Clint exchanged a bewildered glance with Steve and Bruce in turn, glancing down to Pietro who was just as stunned as the rest of them. Steve's shock melted first, shaking himself back into the image of command as he swept his gaze over the team. His eyes landed on Pietro, whom Clint had managed to coax to his feet.

"How long do you need?" Steve asked gently.

"Not long," Pietro replied, his voice a little gravelly but at least he was steady on his feet. "Five minutes?"

"Ten," Clint pushed it up to double. "Back of your neck's cut from the glass."

Tony glanced away, turning heel and setting off for his lab.

"I'll give you fifteen at the latest," Steve offered generously. "Shake it off and suit up. Meet back here as soon as you can."

* * *

"Ow!"

Clint tutted, gently grasping Pietro's jaw to keep him in place. "Stay still." He carefully smoothed the final butterfly strip onto the cut, closing the wound. "There, that should do it."

Pietro turned his head away, out of Clint's hand. "Thanks."

Clint narrowed his eyes fondly.

In addition to dressing his own wound on his shoulder, he'd insisted on helping Pietro clean up the scratches from the glass, thrusting a water bottle into his hand and ordering that he drink at least half of it. He needed to stay hydrated, according to the Vision. Knowing Pietro, he wouldn't look after himself properly, so Clint had taken it upon himself to care for the kid.

"When did you eat last?"

Pietro glanced to him and strands of white hair fell in his eyes. He chuckled breathlessly, pushing the locks back out of his face. "I'm fine, Clint… You don't have to worry about me, you know. I can take care of myself."

"I know," Clint muttered, even though he didn't. "I just need to make sure you've eaten enough because you need your power to work, okay?"

Pietro nodded. "Yeah, I've eaten." He glanced to the side, clearly eager to move on to another topic. "I'll meet you in gear up."

Clint opened his mouth to protest but Pietro was already gone, sprinting away in a flash of blue smoke. Setting down the medical supplies, Clint sighed, setting off after him. He walked, his pace acting as contrast to Pietro's rushed nature, and arrived just in time to see Pietro easing a new shirt down over his hips.

It was a regular sports shirt, long sleeved with thumb holes, which Clint tended to find annoying but he guessed Pietro found it comfortable. The fabric was two-toned grey with lines of blue and white markings over the ribs and on the arms. The shirt suited him, the blue complimenting with his eyes.

Clint eyed his clothes, regular sports gear- shirt and black trousers with grey trainers matching his shirt. "You're wearing that?"

Pietro glanced to him, then down at himself, smoothing the shirt out. "What's wrong with it?"

"Kid, we're going to a battle not the gym."

Pietro shrugged. "What would you have me wear?"

Clint let out a slow breath, picking his arrows out from an extensive array. "I don't know, something a little sturdier. Maybe try a bulletproof vest?"

"I can't run in them," Pietro muttered. "I just need to be able to run. I don't need weapons or armour. Clothes need to be lightweight so I can run properly."

Clint slotted his arrows into a quiver, a little aggressively.

"You'd better be damn careful then, kid."


	22. Chapter 22

"Clint…"

Clint raised his head to look up at Pietro, standing in front of him. He noted the young man hadn't changed his clothes to something sturdier. _Stubborn kid,_ he thought fondly.

"Hey," he greeted in return.

Pietro took the seat beside him in the jet, despite the vast number of options. The others had already taken their respective positions. Clint flashed a glance to Pietro at the engines started up, checking the kid was calm. Satisfied, Clint raised a hand to his own shoulder.

He felt Pietro's eyes burning into him as he twisted back round to inspect his shoulder, pulling the fabric of his shirt a little. He should have really cleaned that cut more thoroughly as the skin surrounding the stitched wound was now tinged a slight pink. If he didn't wash it out, he could be facing a nasty infection.

"You're hurt."

He glanced back to Pietro, forcing a smile as he covered the injury with his shirt. "I'm fine.

"Let me heal you," Pietro offered. "Please."

"No," Clint muttered, shaking his head. "No, kid, don't waste your strength… You need to conserve your energy for your power to work properly."

Pietro frowned a little. "You can't go into a fight with an injury; your aim will be off."

"You underestimate me, kid."

Pietro shook his head. "No, Clint. I don't…" Clint glanced up at him, the slightest frown furrowing his eyebrows. "I trust your abilities, but if I can help then I should. I.. I want to help."

Clint considered him a moment, his eyes narrowed slightly at how important this seemed to be to Pietro. "You'll stop if... if something goes wrong."

At Pietro's nod, Clint reluctantly tugged the fabric of his shirt down over his shoulder while Pietro moved to unsheathe the blade from Clint's boot. He winced a little as the blade met his palm, dark crimson droplets trailing down to drip from his pale skin.

Standing, Pietro gently pressed his hand to Clint's shoulder, taking a deep, steady breath and closing his eyes. Electricity immediately stirred in his veins and a sharp stab of agony vibrated through his body. Gasping faintly, he took a shaky step back, trembling uncontrollably as his breathing burst in faint, rapid gasps.

"Pietro?" Clint asked anxiously, pulling his shirt back up and getting to his feet. "Pietro, are you okay?"

"I…" Pietro's voice was weak, his vision clouding. "I…"

"Pietro!" Clint exclaimed, leaping forward to catch Pietro as his legs gave way and the kid slumped onto his knees. "Pietro! Christ… Banner!"

Bruce was at his side in an instant, helping Clint to lay Pietro back and putting his hands to each side of Pietro's jaw, keeping his head in place. Pietro's eyes were closed, his chest rising a falling a little too fast. Frowning anxiously, Clint watched as Bruce tried to rouse the young man, astonished at how calm the doctor seemed to be.

"Pietro.. Pietro, can you hear me, kid?" Bruce glanced down to Pietro's chest, moving a hand to rest over his heart. "It's okay," he assured Clint, glancing to the archer. "It's okay, he's just fainted."

"Why? What happened?" Clint asked urgently.

"His power."

Both men glanced around to see the Vision stood behind them, eyes narrowed.

"It's too much," Vision murmured, closing his eyes as if he was in pain. "It's too much, it's burning him…"

"Then he needs to stop it," said Bruce, head turning back to the kid's face as Pietro stirred weakly. "Hey, he's coming round… Pietro? Pietro are you okay, kid?"

Pietro's eyes fluttered open, immediately finding Bruce. He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes again. "What happened?"

"You just fainted for a few seconds," Bruce explained gently. "How do you feel? Are you dizzy?"

"I'm fine," Pietro mumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He shrugged Bruce away when the doctor's hand went to rest on his shoulder. "I don't need help, I'm fine."

Bruce's wince was hardly noticeable, just the tiniest flinch of his features. However, Pietro seemed to see his words had stung and lowered his eyes, muttering a quiet apology. Bruce shook his head wordlessly rising to his feet and allowing Pietro to stand on his own.

"You should sit down," Clint muttered, gesturing Pietro to a seat. "Rest up, I'll be there in a sec."

Pietro stumbled to the seat, sitting heavily and raising a hand to his head, rubbing at his temple. Meanwhile, Clint turned to Bruce, carefully leading the doctor away a little, lowering his voice when he spoke so as not to be overheard.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked quietly. "He's never passed out like that before, not when he hasn't even had the chance to use his power... What's happening?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't know... It seems like it's been getting worse for a while now. When he first came to us, he healed your burn wound without much of an issue, I heard, only blacked out for a couple seconds."

Clint nodded. "I remember."

"And now even trying to summon his power has him unconscious for at least twice as long," Bruce continued, folding his arms and hugging into his chest. "He's... I don't even know anymore, his power's so unstable... If he loses control, the overload of energy... it could kill him."

Clint frowned at the floor, eyes narrowing. "If he tries to heal someone.. he dies?"

Bruce hesitated. "As a worse case outcome, the rush of energy followed by its release could stop his heart... It may not be possible to revive him from something like that."

"He's been fainting because its messing with his heart?!" Clint hissed. "What the hell?!"

"I'm theorising, Clint," Bruce pointed out quietly. "We don't know that."

"But it could be," Clint muttered, then glanced back to Pietro, his voice low. "Kid's been killing himself..."

Bruce followed his gaze briefly. "In any case, I would strongly advise against attempting to use his power. Even if the energy doesn't kill him, he can't afford to be unconscious in a battle, god knows what kind of state he'd get himself into then." He turned back to face Clint. "You need to tell him this. You need to make sure he doesn't try to use the healing aspect in the battle."

Clint nodded, his eyes never once leaving Pietro. "I'll talk to him."

* * *

Approaching Pietro was like approaching a kicked puppy.

His eyes were cast down at the floor and he flinched when Clint sat beside him, as if the archer had struck him. Although he hadn't even touched the kid, guilt settled heavy in Clint's chest.

"Hey, kid," Clint greeted levelly, knowing that if he was nonchalant, Pietro would be less likely to push him away. "You alright?"

Pietro was quiet for so long that Clint was close to asking again before the young man took in a deep inhale, letting it out as a prolonged sigh. "I'm fine... I just..." His voice trailed off, seeming to decide against speaking his mind. "I'm fine."

Clint narrowed his eyes curiously, invested now. "What is it?"

Pietro shook his head, leaning back against the jet wall. "It's stupid."

"I'm sure it isn't." Clint murmured, encouraging him to go on. "You can tell me. I'm sure it isn't stupid."

"I just.." Pietro sighed, sounding far too old for someone so young. "Do you ever feel like something terrible is about to happen...? And you worry there won't be anything you'll be able to do to stop it.."

Clint frowned thoughtfully, leaning forward to rest his arms over his knees. "You feeling like that right now?"

Pietro looked away, almost as if he was embarrassed. "I told you.. It's stupid."

"It's not." Clint shook his head gently. "Everyone feels like that sometimes.. Especially before something like this..." He paused briefly, considering how Pietro would react if he spoke his mind. "Kid, you know... it isn't too late to get out of this.. No, listen-" He gripped Pietro's shoulder as he scoffed disbelievingly. "Please, just hear me out.. You're young. You don't understand; what we do, it's dangerous. People get hurt. I don't want you to become one of the casualties that'll inescapably come out of this battle... You can still go back to the tower, back to the farm, wherever you feel safe-"

"I feel safe here." Pietro cut him off, his voice quiet and a little distant. "I feel safe if I know you are safe.. You remind me... of my father.." He was silent for a moment, perhaps waiting for Clint to reply, but after a revelation like that, Clint was sure to be oddly quiet for at least an hour. Pietro raised his head, meeting Clint's eyes, unblinking. "I will go.. if you go."

The archer lowered his eyes, sighing. "Kid... It's not that simple." He glanced round the jet, eyes skirting over the rest of the avengers. "These guys.. they're my team, my friends.. I can't abandon them."

"Then I stay."

Clint rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. "This isn't a game, Pietro. You could get hurt."

"So could you," Pietro replied levelly. "So could all of you. How is this okay for you and not for me?"

Clint stared at the floor. "You're a child, Pietro."

Pietro scoffed. "I am not a child. This is what you think of me…? You think I cannot care for myself?"

"No," Clint muttered. "No, Pietro, just… You're just so damn young. You shouldn't be risking your life for anything. You shouldn't be ready to die for anything.. Christ, Pietro, you could be seventeen for all we know."

"I'm nineteen, Clint," Pietro muttered.

"You don't know that."

Pietro glanced to him, irises filled with fire. "I don't know _anything_ about my own life," he growled, hands trembling with frustration. "Hydra took everything from me. I can't… I can't even remember what my parents looked like. I don't know what their names were. But I do know that I am not letting anyone else die because of my mistakes."

Clint shook his head. "Kid, this wasn't your fault."

"I don't care; Sokovia is still my country. I want to fight for it, Clint," Pietro muttered, blue eyes flashing with determination and a spark of defiance. "And you can't stop me."


End file.
